Pretty Lies and Dirty Truth
by ThreeJays
Summary: *SPOILERS THROUGH 2x11 INCLUDING A LINE FROM A 2x12 PROMO!*  The truth is supposed to be neat.  Tidy.  A light in dark places and all that.  But what if it isn't?  Stefan/Elena moving quickly  and with certainty  to Damon/Elena
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own or profit (or even want to profit, for that matter) TVD or any of the characters therein.

_**A/N: Yeah, I don't know what the heck I'm doing here. This has been driving me crazy, so I'm writing away and I'm just going to have to start posting it. Spoilers up through 2x11, and this is my version of what could (but almost certainly won't) happen after the endless holiday break that is making me crazy. My inspiration was a line from Rose in a promo for 2x12.**_

_**There will be a lot of Stefan and Elena initially as I am working from canon. But I'm a sucker for that crazy blue-eyed vampire, so this will end up D/E without question. I'm guessing 5, 6, maybe even 7 chapters? Who knows. Heck, I may pull this down tomorrow once I'm in my right mind and realize I'm probably the only person alive still OBSESSING about TVD this close to the holidays. ;-) Oh, and this is a little dark and miserable. So if anyone actually enjoys it, please, please let me know. I'm convinced it's trash, but feel compelled (HA!) to post it anyway. Review, I beg you. Nicely though.**_

_**Story-wide warnings for character death (not main), language, eventual blood/blood-play (light), adult situations (not too graphic, probably), and copious amounts of angst (naturally)**_

"It's okay to love them both," Rose tells me.

I want to tell her how wrong she is. I want to tell her I love Stefan, always Stefan. My mouth is open, forming those exact words, but my voice refuses to come.

In the end I am saved by the devil himself. He arrives carrying a heavy quilt he wrestled up from a guest room. Rose is cold. So cold. She shivers over and over, gripping my hands with icy fingers that clawed at my throat not twenty-four hours ago.

That part's all over now. Now we're just waiting.

Waiting for her to die.

"Do you know I had to check _four_ rooms for this," Damon says as he fluffs out the quilt expertly. It falls over the bed and he tucks it around her body with little karate chops around her silhouette. "The bed it was on smelled like my old Aunt Violet, like peppermints and senility."

Damon gives a mock shudder, his shoulder brushing against my hip as he tucks in the covers closest to me. I nearly leap out of my seat, backing out of his way.

Whether Rose laughs at me or at Damon's griping, I can't tell. Either way, it's a sad, wheezing ordeal. One that reminds us she's not long for this world.

"You owe me big," he says, ignoring her looming death in a way I cannot.

"I'm sure," she rattles back, voice small and weak.

"I'm talking filthy, depraved repayment," he says, waggling his brows. "Stuff you'll write Cosmo about."

I really don't need to be here for this. I don't even understand why she asked for me to come to begin with. I head for the door, but Rose's voice calls out.

"Will you stay, Elena?" she asks, shooting Damon a look of warning. "I feel better with you here. And I swear he'll behave."

"Alright, Betty Buzzkill. I'll keep it PG-13," Damon says, still not looking at me.

Dammit.

I don't want to stay. I don't want to be the sweet, dutiful girl today. I want to run out of this mansion and back to my warm bed. I want to hide under the covers until Stefan comes back from his research trip. And I want to make love to him for hours, until I can push all this other stuff out and pretend that I'm just a girl and that he's just a boy and that Damon doesn't even exist.

I want a lot of things, but I stay.

I'm a good girl. Always have been, really.

I pretend to look over the pocket change on the dresser while Damon strokes her forehead with the back of his fingers. He speaks in a voice too tender for his mouth.

"You're still holding up, right?"

"No, I'm not," she says, shaking her head. Smiling in a strange way. "Please, Damon. It's time. You promised you would do this when it was time."

He releases a shaking breath and I see it now. The stake in his hand. She sniffs back tears and I freeze, horror spreading through me like a spray of ice.

"There's still time," I say, unable to stop myself.

"You can't stop this," she says. "Neither of you. I have hours. Maybe less than that."

"Oh, don't turn into a sissy now," Damon says, that familiar swagger back in his tone.

"Damon, stop," I say, my eyes welling as I look at her. She is beyond pale. Her face is bleached. Her veins show starkly beneath her eyes, but her fangs are not descending. Because her body isn't trying to feed.

It's trying to die.

"Stop what?" he scoffs. "Any minute now my saintly little brother is going to trot through that door with a cure. That's what Stefan does. He saves the day."

"Not this day," Rose says and I see that breaking through his indifference. The mask cracks, something raw and painful peeking out from behind the ragged edges.

He jerks off of the bed, going stiff and straight. She twists her fingers into his sleeves and pulls him back down, palming his face in her skeletal hands.

"Damon, please."

"Not yet, Rose," he says.

"Help me go," she says. "It hurts. So much."

"Just hold on a little longer," he says touching the collar of the shirt she's wearing. His shirt. Then his voice is so soft, I can barely hear it. "You're supposed to be my friend."

"You have other friends," she says, and her eyes cut to me. His do not.

I don't look away from her. It's hard. The look makes me ache everywhere, but I hold her gaze. It's the least I can do.

"Don't you let _anyone_ blame him for this," she says to me, and for a moment I see danger sparking in her eyes. The reminder of the predator she once was.

"I won't," I say.

I want to run, but I stay. I think it's because she asked me. I'm afraid it's because I can't leave him.

Damon folds her into an embrace and she coughs wetly, leaving a spot of blood on his shoulder. He poises the stake between her shoulder blades and I hold back a sob, turning my head.

I can't watch this. I can't be seeing or hearing _any_ of this. It's too awful.

"I was wrong, Damon," she says, whispering it so softly I can barely make out the words. "I told you that you were right to fight it, but you aren't. Don't fight it."

"Like I ever listened to you," he teases and as her laughter rings out, he drives the stake home.

And then it is over.

I swipe the tears off of my cheeks and swallow down my sobs as I watch him ease her back to the pillow. He pushes her hair off of her forehead and his shoulders shake. Just once.

It cuts through me like a knife.

I rush to the bed, until I'm right behind him, my hands raised uselessly behind the line of his shoulders. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I watch him clench his fists and hear him drag in tight, angry breaths. And then he growls, whirling on me with dark eyes and fangs bared.

As if I'm going to be so scared with the tear tracks streaking down either side of his face.

My voice is ragged, every word choked. "I'm sorry, Damon."

"Sorry? You didn't give a _shit_ about her!"

"I give a shit about you," I snap back.

He lunges forward, licking his sharp teeth in warning. I flick my hair behind my shoulders, baring my neck. Daring him.

"You're my friend, remember?" I ask.

"I lost my friend forever, Elena," he says, tilting his head in that crazy, dangerous way. "_Remember_?"

"Don't I wish it were that simple," I say.

He opens his mouth, bares those ugly sharp teeth as if he'll bite me. But he won't bite me. We've all known that for so long that it's not even a novel idea anymore.

So, I haul him into my arms, pulling his head into my shoulder, fangs and all. It doesn't matter that he pretends to try to pull away. It doesn't matter that my chin is resting on the damp spot of Rose's blood. What matters is that I feel him give in. His arms go around my back and he presses his face into my neck and I know I've done something right.

For once.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own or profit (or even want to profit, for that matter) TVD or any of the characters therein.

_**A/N: Okay, you convinced me. :-) You are all lovely. Quoting my lines, complimenting me so sweetly. The reviews put me in a better mood all day. They, uh, also made me write more. So, yeah, here we are.**_

_**This chapter does have a blood…situation…and I think I drop an f-bomb. Anyway, it's going to be a long and bumpy road for these two kids, one of whom is *still* dating Stefan. Ugh! But we'll get there – trust me. Reviews are great at Christmas – tis the season for giving, right? ;-) Enjoy and Merry Christmas!**_

Stefan has his arm around my shoulder. I know he means well, Stefan _always _means well. But I feel like I'm suffocating. We're supposed to be watching a movie, but I'm watching the window beyond the TV instead. I'm half desperate to throw it open, to breathe in the icy air beyond the glass.

What the hell is with me? I've been this way for _days_.

I think I'm going crazy. A week ago I wanted nothing more than for Stefan to rush back into town. I was chomping at the bit to get him out of his clothes, to get his hands on me so that I could not feel all the awful things I was feeling.

And he did get back, three hours after Rose died. By then, everything was different. It was all I could do to hug him hello. He had a tall glass of comfort sex on his mind. I had Devastated Damon on tap.

I couldn't get him out of my head, the way he'd shuddered under my embrace, the way his tears had felt surprisingly hot soaking through my shirt.

Of course, he'd pulled away thirty seconds later, disappearing with Rose's body and a shovel. He returned the next morning, stone-faced and carrying a _crate_ of liquor bottles.

He still hasn't stopped drinking. And Stefan and I still haven't had sex.

We will. I know that. It's just a matter of me curing whatever brand of crazy this is I've been inflicted with.

"He's not eating much," Stefan says, and I jerk my head back forward, only now realizing that I'd started gazing up the stairwell. Up towards Damon's room.

I frown, feeling guilty as hell. Stefan just smiles in that easy, understanding way of his.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I know I'm distracted. I realize it's insane for me to say this, but I'm pretty worried about Damon."

Stefan nods, looking serious. Then, when doesn't he look serious?

"Me too," he says. "He's unstable."

"This is more than that, Stefan. I was there and it was awful. She was his friend."

He rubs the upper part of my arm and gives me a look that makes me feel like a little girl. I _hate _that look. There's something so…superior about it.

"Damon doesn't really do friends, Elena," he says. "He only thinks he does. But I love that about you. You can find the good in anyone."

He cups my face and gives me a tender kiss. I remind myself that I should be enjoying this moment, this rare stolen bit of peace with my boyfriend. I should _not _be obsessing over the psycho vampire binge drinking on the second floor. But I am.

"Would you mind if I checked on him? I'd probably be more focused."

"You don't need my permission," he says, because he really is _that _perfect.

"I know, but Damon can be flirty and weird and it seems to get to you. Which is probably the whole reason he does it."

There it is again. That You-poor-stupid-child look. No. No, I have to be misreading it. Stefan is wonderful. I'm the one who's crazy. I'm picking him apart because I can't figure Damon out. I'm so screwed up, therapists would probably pay over me.

"Elena," he says, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I know you're concerned about him. It's what you do. You can't help it."

I swallow hard, not disagreeing, even though I know damn well it's more than me just being such a sweet, caring gal. No, this is a sticky mess of things I don't want to talk about. Or even think about.

"I'll tell you what," he says. "I need to make a run to the library before it closes. I've got a couple of botany books on reserve. For the spell."

"For the werewolf bite cure? But Bonnie said half of those ingredients are extinct."

"Some of them, yes. But plants are bred over and over again. They change names, locations. If we can trace the lines of those extinct plants—

"Then you might be able to make the spell work."

"In theory," he says, rubbing my knee softly. "So, that'll give you a few minutes to play good Samaritan to my brother. But be careful."

"I don't deserve you," I laugh, but it cuts off in my throat. I don't like those words suddenly. They seemed fine when I chose them, but now I feel like they leave my tongue sour and my ears stinging.

Stefan tells me I deserve more than him and then he kisses me. I let him. I even remember to respond.

I wait until I hear his car backing out of the driveway before I start up towards Damon's room. I haven't taken two steps when I hear him.

"So, the two of you plotting to save me from myself? Very touching."

I freeze on the stairs, frowning as he continues.

"Maybe a _little_ Days-of-Our-Lives, but Stefan's hair has always had that daytime drama flair."

So, it's going to be typical Damon ass-hattery? Fine by me. I know all the steps to that dance. I square my shoulders and climb the massive staircase.

His room is gorgeous, in a messy, lived-in way. The furniture is polished, but cluttered. His nightstand is buried under a stack of books and a pile of broken glass that I imagine was once a crystal tumbler.

I find him on the floor, back to his bed and an empty bottle of liquor between his legs. He's flushed, shirtless, and far too aware of how good he looks if his smirk is any indicator.

"Wanna play spin the bottle?" he asks.

"Not if you paid me," I say, but not before the image flashes through my mind.

See, that's the thing. No matter how tightly I hold the reins with Damon, there's always that split second where it's out of control. That half of a breath where I picture it clear as day, the bottle spinning to a stop, me crawling across the floor, him leaning in with that fuck-me smile dialed up to ten.

In my right mind, I've never wanted to kiss Damon. Not once. But I've thought about it hundreds of times.

He pulls up his knees, looking at me under hooded eyes. "You can call off the suicide watch. I'm not planning to run myself through with a chair leg."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

He rolls his eyes. "Because I'm busy _drinking_."

"You look like hell."

This isn't really true. He's model gorgeous like he always is. Right now, he's a model with dark circles under his eyes and a little too much indentation around the ribs, but a model nonetheless. He leans his head back on the bed.

"You want to put on that cute little outfit you wore last year and take care of me, Nurse Gilbert?"

"No, Damon, I don't. What I would like is for you to stop pretending that what happened to Rose doesn't matter."

"And I'd like you to remove the stick from your ass—

I ignore this, plowing ahead. "I'd also like you eat something."

"You offering?"

"God, do you ever stop? You're not going to convince me that it's no big deal, Damon. I was there!"

His smirk fades, leaving his face blank and his beautiful eyes dark. There it is. Right there. _That's_ the part of him I can't walk away from.

I crouch down until we're eye to eye. He won't quite look at me, but he's not forcing me to leave. It's something.

"Did you love her?" I ask, very softly.

"Doesn't it make it even more tragic that I didn't?" he asks, still not looking at me.

I don't answer, because I honestly don't know.

"I liked her, though," he says.

"Do you think she'd want you drinking yourself into oblivion?"

"This isn't because of her," he says, then he pushes off the floor and that brief fragile beauty is gone. His energy is back, a frenetic, palpable thing. Sometimes I wonder if it hurts him to be still.

"Will you please eat something?" I ask.

"As soon as I'm hungry."

I cross my arms, not believing him for a second. "You're not hungry?"

He's at his dresser now, pulling out a shirt. He sounds irritated. Has that tight look around his smile. "Not at this moment. Should I be keeping a log?"

"It's just funny. I mean, it seems like you go through blood bags by the hour and Stefan says you've barely had anything for days."

"Maybe I'm watching my girlish figure."

"Right," I say, and now I've had enough.

I head to the nightstand and pick up one of those broken pieces of glass I saw earlier.

I've lost it. I mean, really, truly lost it. Because only an insane person would drag a jagged piece of glass across her fingertips for a hungry and possibly psychotic vampire.

A line of blood blooms on my skin and he turns to me, chin lifted. His eyes are framed in dark veins, fangs extending between his lips.

"Thought you weren't hungry," I say, holding my fingers out pointedly.

This is a supremely stupid idea. He's at me before I even see him move, his hand around my wrist, his face so close I can smell the liquor he's been marinating in for the past few days.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Elena."

"I knew you were lying," I say, hating how breathless I sound. "I wanted to call your bluff."

"Now I'm about to call yours," he says, and then he leans in, eyes closed as his tongue slides across my fingers.

He gives me every possible opportunity to pull free. Really. And I could rattle off a grocery list of reasons why I should never, _ever_ let this happen.

I ignore them all.

He pulls the stinging tips of my fingers between his lips and sucks, and I swear to God, I feel it in my knees. I mean it hurts like hell, but it feels so good that it makes my belly ache.

What does that say about me? What does it mean that I'm not stopping him? I'm not pulling away or saying a word. I'm just standing here, my heart pounding louder and harder as his tongue strokes my wound.

He makes a low, almost sexy sound in the back of his throat and I have never felt more filthy than I do at this moment.

I'm not sure I've ever felt more alive, either.

He pulls free, searching me with a look I don't think I can handle.

I drop my hand to my side as if all of this is very boring. Sure.

"I'll bring you two bags," I say, and I might as well be the checkout girl at Safeway, because this is all business now. "If you want more, just yell down the stairs."

The softness fades from his features, leaving the smirk I know so well in its wake. I feel his eyes flick up and down my frame.

"It's a whole lot better straight from the source, Elena."

I turn away before I say something I'll regret forever. But obviously not before he sees me blush, because his laugh follows me all the way down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Vampire Diaries or anyone involved with it. **

_**A/N: Okay, I had wanted to get this posted by the 26**__**th**__**, but the holidays were just crazy-palooza. Plus, I struggled with this chapter. I'm finally mostly happy with it, but I wanted to say that it was all the reviews that forced me to not give it up. Knowing that it's making people happy made me really want to keep going.**_

_**Thank you so much for the kind words, the compliments, and more than anything just taking a couple of minutes to let me know you're enjoying it. Season 2 has been tough for Damon/Elena folks like us, so I really hoped this story would be enjoyable.**_

_**Hope you like the chapter, and as always, any comments are so very appreciated. Please drop a line if you have a couple of seconds. :-)**_

We're going to need a bigger witch.

Or a better one, at least.

As it stands, we're T-minus eight days until the next full moon and as Damon put it earlier this afternoon, 'We don't have dick.'

It was a shitty thing to say. Especially to Bonnie, who's already on the fence with whether or not she even wants to be involved in this. And it's not like _he's_ helping, skulking around the doorways with his bottomless glass of scotch and his endless supply of one-liners, all of which sound dirty.

I swear Damon could make a traffic report sexual.

I shoot him a lethal glare, but he's too sucking down his liquor to notice. Then I turn a page in the botany book and scribble some total nonsense in the notebook beside me. God knows why. It's not like this is study hall and I'm trying to look busy. Except that it is exactly like that. Except Stefan is the teacher today and Bonnie is a better student than me.

My 'teacher' looks up and gives me one of those perfect smiles of his, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. I smile back, wishing I felt it more.

And then Damon makes a disgusted noise and my blood _boils_. Seriously, that is all it takes. One juvenile noise and I'm thinking long and hard about the last time I used a pencil for a stake. I am that pissed.

Which is just…I mean, really? Why _am _I so pissed?

I stare at an illustration of some leaf segment that looks like every other leaf segment in this book and try to think about what's making me so mad.

Everything about Damon is infuriating me. It's been that way for two days. I hate the way he walks, the way he laughs, the way his mouth falls open a little when he's really listening. Most of all I hate the fact that he needs a haircut, a shower, and probably ten bags of blood to counter all the freaking scotch, and despite _all_ of that, he's _still_ prettier than me.

Or maybe I just hate myself for being completely distracted by this jerk.

"What'd you do to your finger there, Elena?" Damon asks, gesturing at my bandage.

I'm instantly assaulted by the image of his lips slipping around my fingers, by the feel of his tongue against my skin.

No, it's him. I definitely hate him.

"I got cut," I say. Battery acid is less caustic than my voice. "Have you noticed that we're trying to do research here?"

Bonnie looks at me like I'm insane. Or possibly like she really just wishes I'd be quiet so she can work. But Damon looks genuinely surprised. Almost thoughtful. "Gosh, Elena, I just figured Stefan finally started one of those Oprah book clubs."

Stefan looks up, gesturing at Damon. "As usual, you are a paragon of maturity. I think Elena's trying to say we could use your help."

And I think Elena can speak for herself. But I don't say that.

Damon tilts his head. "Tempting. But I think I'm going to channel my inner pacifist on this one. Do the Ghandi thing."

Whatever focus Bonnie had is clearly shot. "You kill people to prove points, Damon."

"_Killed_ people," he corrects, wagging a finger at her. "There's a difference. I'm a regular white hat these days. I even _donate_ to the blood bank we rip off."

"He gets a tax write off," Stefan explains.

And then Bonnie and Stefan shake their heads and get back to their research. But there's none of that for me. I stare at Damon wishing he'd catch on fire. And he stares right back, smirking like this is all some huge joke. Like Rose didn't matter one damn bit and stopping this from happening again isn't even worth five minutes of his precious time.

And then I get it.

It really doesn't matter. Because Damon already has a solution to this problem.

He heads out of the dining room and I wait until I'm sure enough time has passed that it won't look like I'm following him. Of course, I _am_ going to be following him, so now I'm a lying liar who lies on top of being a girl who really needs psychiatric evaluation.

I push out my chair and stand up and Bonnie and Stefan look up, startled.

"I'm going to get a little fresh air. Maybe call Jenna."

"It's freezing out there," Stefan says and I smile so tightly it's a miracle my cheeks don't cramp.

"I know. I'll get my coat."

Damon's beside the drink station when I enter the living room. I brush past him, pausing just long enough to tug his sleeve between my thumb and forefinger. I don't look at him or speak to him or do anything else to indicate that I want him to follow me.

But he'll follow me. I know that.

I put on my coat, zipping it halfway before I head outside. Damon is behind me like a shadow, dark and silent.

The porch is slick with ice. I move to one side of it, drawing a frosty breath as I lean against the wall. He takes the opposite wall, watching me.

"What's up, Elena? Got another boo-boo you need me to kiss?" he asks softly.

Heat floods my face. And other regions I won't even think about. I ignore it and him entirely.

"I know what you're planning and I'm not going to let you do it, Damon."

He rolls his eyes, but keeps his voice low. Low enough that Stefan will have trouble hearing, no doubt. "I'm not going to hurt your little rat terrier friend Tyler, if that's what your worried about."

"Do you think killing Jules instead will get a pass by me?"

He shrugs one shoulder, as if this isn't even important enough for a response.

"Is that what you think?" I ask again, because I want an answer. I want to hear him say it.

"I don't need a _pass_," he says. "She's a threat, Elena. She killed Rose and she's threatened Stefan and I both."

"So, screw the cure. Screw any rational solution!" I round on him, my hands perching on my hips. It's all I can do to keep my voice soft now. "God, you're never going to change, are you? Anytime someone pisses you off, you're going straight to murder."

He stalks forward, eyes narrowed. "If I killed everyone that pissed me off, _you'd_ be dead twice a week."

"No, when I piss you off, you go after my brother!"

He flinches.

I do, too.

"There's your trump card," he says, voice thin and cold. "So, I guess we're done here?"

No. No, we're never done. That's the whole damn problem.

I swallow hard. "I'm sorry, Damon."

"Don't be. I did it. We both know it. You're just making sure I never forget it."

I ball my hands into fists. My fingers are cold. Freezing. I take a shuddering breath before responding. "I don't think you'd forget," I say. "It was a mean thing to say. You just…you make me crazy sometimes, okay?"

"You make me crazy _all_ the time," he says, and there's something low and gravelly in his voice that makes my belly do a slow flip.

I'm afraid to meet his eyes, but I do it, squaring my shoulders before I speak again. "I don't want to you to kill Jules."

"I don't want another season of One Tree Hill. We all have our crosses to bear, Elena."

God, he's infuriating. I'm so mad, so unbelievably _furious_ right now. I sniff, and to my total mortification find that I've got angry tears spilling down my cheeks.

"Now you're turning on the waterworks?" he cries. "Really, Elena? I mean, for all this good girl act, you've got a seriously manipulative side."

I whirl for the door, seeing red. But then his hand is on my arm and he turns me back and there it is, that tender face that cuts right through me. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who ever sees this face.

I remind myself that seeing it doesn't make it real.

"I'll give them until the full moon," he says. "No longer."

"Can I trust you on that?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes. "How often have I refused you something you want?"

I know my cheeks have gone pink again. Because I believe him. It's never made any sense at all, but I really can get practically anything I want out of Damon Salvatore.

"Why?" I ask, before I think better of it.

"You know damn well why," he says, calling me out, pushing that invisible boundary. "Let's not stand here and pretend you don't know _exactly_ how I feel about you, Elena."

And there it is. No pretense. No pretty wrapping. Just the bald reality that Damon loves me. Rather or not he says the three words isn't relevant. The naked truth of it is looking me in the eye.

And it's scaring me to death.

I take a step. I'm not sure where I'm planning to go, but I want to go there fast. I don't, of course. I slip on the ice, my feet sliding wild. He catches me by the waist. Sets me steady.

We are too close.

He smells amazing. His eyes are impossibly blue. And I would give anything if I could just not be so _aware_ of him.

He tilts his head, eyes flicking to my mouth.

I'm in _serious_ trouble.

"Yours is the only live blood I've tasted in months you know," he says.

I can't look away from him. Though I need to. I really, really need to because he's like a vortex sucking me in.

He inches back, loosening his grip, but not releasing me. I feel each one of his fingers against my sides, right through my puffy winter jacket. Each little point of pressure sends a swirl of lightning through me, a shock that I can still feel when he takes his hands away.

"This thing between us," he says. "It's not going to go away, Elena."

"What's between us is friendship," I say, but my voice is a shaking wreck. "Maybe not even that."

He reaches one hand forward, sliding two fingers against my palm. That's all he does and I swear I have to hold my breath so I won't make a sound. He slides past my hand until I can feel those fingers press against the tender underside of my wrist. Against my pulse.

My heart is hammering wild and loud. I can feel it everywhere.

And so can he.

His gives me a wicked look and licks his lips. "Just friendship, Elena?"

And then, finally, _finally_, I escape.

Stefan meets me at the door, having gotten up to check on me. I'm relieved and irritated, but most of all, I'm on fire. I literally feel like I'm burning from the inside out. So, I throw my arms around my boyfriend's neck and close my eyes. And then I kiss him more fiercely than I have in weeks.

It would be a really good thing for us. If I wasn't still thinking of Damon.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own TVD or any of the characters – am just playing.

**A/N: Firstly, THANK YOU SO MUCH! Your reviews are keeping this fic alive and this writer grateful and humbled. You are simply amazing. Truly.**

**I've got a terrible case of bronchitis and getting this chapter to feel right was hard. I had to rewrite it at least six times and I'm very out of it on meds and such. I would have put this aside, but your comments and encouragement kept me coming back to fix it. So, thank you. A whole, whole lot. It means loads to me.**

**That said, I want to put out a couple of warnings. This chapter is DARK times dark. It's a little more intense/gory and less with the quippy fun. It's also seriously long. And was partly written with prescription cough medicine in my system, so it might be just awful. I sure hope not.**

**I hope you enjoy it and can't wait to hear what you think – drop a line if you can, every review is like a gift. Happy New Year!**

"I'm a little skeptical," Stefan says, looking back and forth between Bonnie and me.

"I know it sounds crazy—" Bonnie says.

"Oh, I wouldn't say crazy," Damon interrupts. "Unbelievably stupid and pointless, maybe. But, hey, way to think outside the box."

His chair scrapes as he moves to leave, and I reach for his arm, fingers brushing his wrist.

"Wait, Damon," I say. He stops and our eyes lock.

Stefan notices. Bonnie notices. People in China notice. It is one of those stupid things that shouldn't mean anything. But it does.

He jerks free of my grip as if it's burning him.

"Just hear her out," I say.

"Hear what out? Glinda here wants to harness her _inner strength_? That's not magic, that's a self-help book, people."

"That spell is solid," Bonnie says. "I can feel it. Grams told me that if I was stuck, meditating and taking time to center myself would help me _feel_ things out. We are close to this cure. I'm telling you."

Damon rolls his eyes and I give him a look that could liquify steel. He slouches in his chair like a twelve-year-old while Stefan nods, the very picture of reason and steadiness.

"It makes sense. Unfortunately, we're out of time to explore options," Stefan says. "The full moon rises in four hours."

Damon crosses his arms. "So unless you're going to _harness_ the ability to zap a werewolf into a Chihuahua by dinnertime, I'm voting your plan off the island."

"I don't get why the two of you are fighting this," Bonnie says, turning to Damon. "Saving _your_ sorry ass from the werewolf _you_ pissed off is the whole reason we need a cure."

"We already have a cure," Damon says, tone flat. "Headless werewolves don't bite."

"You're not killing Jules," Stefan says.

"You're not pulling off those emo jeans," he shoots back, glancing down at Stefan's Levi's, "but you still keep trying."

I smack the table hard enough for my hand to sting. Everyone's eyes turn to me.

"Enough people have died, Damon," I say, keeping my voice soft. "And if that doesn't matter to you, then the possible federal investigation on two out-of-state disappearances should."

Damon seems to consider this until Bonnie leans in. "You could also consider that the next time I set you on fire, I'll make sure no one's there to stop me."

I see the spark of defiance flare in Damon's face. I'm sure he's going to leave. I can see it in the tilt of his mouth.

"It's a risk," Stefan says. He's not saying it for either one of us. He's got his body turned and his voice dropped to a level I can barely hear. "We've taken risks before."

Damon inches closer to Stefan and I see that usually invisible tether between them. Brotherhood. Bonnie and I may as well vanish. This is between them now.

Damon shakes his head, "It's too dangerous."

"Only for us," Stefan argues.

"What about Blondie?"

"We'll lock her up. Her and Tyler both, separately obviously. They'll agree to it."

"And the she-wolf?" Damon asks.

"You and Bonnie will stay at the manor with Elena," Stefan says evenly. "She's got you marked, so she might be watching for you. Alaric and I will go to _reason_ with Jules."

"Reason with her?" Damon scoffs. "You going to bring Milkbones?"

Stefan arches his brows. "I was thinking tranquilizers."

Damon pulls the chair back out, sinking into it with a wicked smile on his face. "I'm listening."

I turn my head in Stefan's bed, watching the ice-dipped trees outside the window. I've been stuck here for three days. Long enough to heal. Long enough to get Damon's blood back out of my system.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. It was a good plan. It would have worked if the ice storm hadn't hit, turning the roads into skating rinks.

But the storm did hit.

It might have _still_ worked if the high winds hadn't knocked out the cell tower before Stefan could warn us, but that happened too.

We thought the plan was working. We assumed everything was fine until we saw a streak of gray fur outside the window.

I clutch the blankets to my chest as the memories rush back over me like a freight train.

"_Get down!" Damon roared, and behind him Bonnie started chanting._

_I tried to dodge, but didn't manage it. A hundred plus pounds of fur and claws slammed into me, throwing me to the ground._

_I thought I'd seen the worst side of Damon, but I was wrong. While I laid there seeing stars, he leapt on the wolf's back, burying his fangs into any bit of flesh he could find with his teeth. Hunks of bloody fur were flying._

_I thought he'd rip her apart. And he tried. God, he tried. I screamed at him to stop, to get away from her before she killed him. It was like screaming at a lion._

_The wolf twisted and bucked until she tossed Damon loose. He landed on the couch next to me, breaking it down the middle. And then the wolf reared back, teeth glistening._

_I didn't think at all. _

_I dove into it like a linebacker. It shifted just enough for Damon to roll free. He tried to drag it off of me, but it bit me first, high above the knee. Its teeth were like fire. I swear the scream I let out will haunt me until I die._

_I flopped back to the ground, still crying, and Bonnie must have done something because the wolf burst into flames. It leapt through the broken window, yelping frantically. Damon moved to chase but Bonnie stopped him with a shout._

"_Damon!"_

_She crouched by my side, terror in her eyes._

"_I'm alright," I said, but I felt something wet and warm puddling around my leg. It couldn't be blood. There was way too much of it to be blood._

_And then I saw Damon. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him scared before that moment._

_I felt his hand press hard into my wound and I made this awful, keening cry. Damon's eyes were bright, but he kept right on pressing. "Witch her better, Bonnie. Right now."_

_Bonnie was gasping. Sobbing. Scared out of her mind. And my head was spinning. My fingers felt so cold._

_Damon hissed at her, and I looked up to see his fangs extended, dark veins around his eyes. "Fix her! Right fucking now!"_

"_I-I can't. I'll call 911."_

"_There isn't time," Damon said, looking back at me. He forced his fangs away, and his eyes were so blue. Full and gentle and for one fraction of a breath I thought it might not be the worst way to go_

"_It's okay," I said, my voice barely there at all. "It's okay."_

"_Don't you even start your martyr bullshit right now, Elena," he said, fangs flashing briefly as he bit into his wrist. _

_Then he hesitated, brows pinching together. His head tilted. Towards Bonnie I guessed._

"_Will my blood hurt her?"_

""_I-I don't know," Bonnie sobbed. "It was a werewolf so…I don't know. She's so close, Damon. She doesn't have much time."_

_Then he looked at me, looked right at me until I felt his anguish in the marrow of my bones. _

"_I can't not try," he said, and then I felt his wrist at my mouth, wet and salty. _

_Weakly, I tried to turn my head in protest of the taste, of the whole idea of it, really. He steered me back, fingers firm but tender. I grunted a complaint, too weak to make my mouth work, but too frightened not to try. He held me tight. _

"_You have to do this," he said, his words rushed and desperate and almost angry, "You've never backed away from anything in your damn life and you aren't going to start tonight, Elena. Now, drink!"_

_I felt my consciousness slipping away. And then I saw his face, wet with blood. And tears. _

_I opened my mouth and swallowed mouthful after awful mouthful. _

The bedroom door swings open, jarring me away from my memories. Stefan appears, tray in his hands, patented look of concern on his face. He's been nothing but sweet and attentive and patient. It should be more than enough.

But it isn't.

I force a smile and take the five thousandth bowl of chicken noodle soup from the tray. I hate chicken noodle soup. Always have. But I eat it anyway.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Fine. Bored. I paced for an hour this morning hoping you'd get the message."

"I heard you," he says, smiling. "I was hoping you'd give up and rest some more."

He brushes the hair off my forehead, kissing my temple. I close my eyes, remembering when things were simple. When there was nothing between us but this.

When he pulls back, there is something different in his smile. Something almost sad.

"He's home," Stefan says.

For a second, I think I'll pretend I don't know who he's talking about. But that's not going to fool either of us.

"He's alright?" I ask, and Stefan nods.

"What about Jules?" I ask, already knowing the answer. As if my wound alone wasn't enough, she'd attacked Alaric, too.

"Dead," he says, swallowing hard. "And before you get angry, you should know I helped."

I'm grateful for the honesty.

"He saved me," I tell him, though he knows. Everybody knows.

"He loves you," Stefan says with a shrug. Now the honesty is too much. Too big.

The silence goes on so long that neither one of us seems to know how to break it.

"I'm afraid of what this all means," I say. "Of what happens now."

"Me too," he says, and then he moves the soup to the nightstand, pushing aside the candles we've had to use through all the ice-storm power failures.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery."

"Home?" I ask, hope springing alive in my chest.

He smiles and I hug him tight, loving him _so_ much at that moment. I wish that love were enough to keep things from shifting, but the truth is, it's not. Sometimes I don't like the truth very much.

The world outside is magical, trees and grass glazed in crystal. The roads are still treacherous and Stefan takes his time. But at home I rush him off quickly with a kiss and an assurance to call.

It's heaven to be home, to stand at the foot of the stairs with my brother giving me a fierce hug and assuring me Jenna still won't be home til tonight. For now, it's just us. And he knows me well enough to give me space.

He also knows me well enough to send me to my room with a glass of orange juice, which is _exactly _what I've wanted in place of all the damn soup.

I've never had a longer shower in my life. I stand there letting the water beat down until my fingers are pruny and every inch of me has been scrubbed twice. I brush my hair and then my teeth and then I pull on my softest, stretchiest cami and a pair of shorts so faded they're practically translucent.

The power's only blipped once.

Maybe the worst of it is over.

Maybe everything will be normal now.

As soon as I think it, the lights are gone. I am plunged into darkness. Jeremy shouts up the stairs, asking if I need a flashlight. I tell him I don't. That I was half-asleep anyway.

I am lying. I am a million miles from sleep in this tiny, black bathroom.

Some people would feel frightened, but I only feel alone. Disconnected, like a balloon without a string.

And I'm a smart enough girl to know why. I thought Damon would come. Some very disturbed part of me had assumed that here, away from Stefan's prying ears, he'd feel safe to see me. That he'd give me the chance to thank him.

But apparently, I was wrong.

I put my towel on the counter and hear my bedroom window slide open and then shut. I go very still.

The door to the bathroom swings open and then I am not alone.

"Damon," I say, but he doesn't answer.

I smell his cologne and the cold reminder of the ice outside and I realize at once how badly I wanted him to come.

I should say something. Lots of things, starting with 'Thank You', and ending with 'Don't Get the Wrong Idea.' But I don't. I just close my eyes and wait for his touch. Because somehow I know he'll touch me.

I don't wait long.

His hands are on my face first, tracing every line, feathering down my shoulders, my arms, down to the tips of my fingers. Then I hear the rustle of denim and leather as he goes down on his knees to look at my knee.

I am not right in the head. I need medication or electro-shock therapy because him down there is doing wicked, shameful things to me. And it isn't innuendo or smirking or any thing _he's_ doing, because my eyes are closed and he's nearly clinical down there, checking out the damage.

No, this one's all on me.

I know I should pull away, but I can't remember how to make myself do anything right now. I'm not sure I even want to. Because his touch, these reverent, whisper-soft fingers make me realize how close I came to dying.

And then he kisses my wound, a gentle, brief brush of lips across my bruise that sends heat through from the soles of my feet to my ears.

It makes me feel alive.

I'm suddenly grateful for every scar, every bruise for every moment of agony, even for the way my stomach churned at the smell of Damon's blood. I'm grateful, too, for my heart that's racing way too fast now. Tears spill hot and salty over my lashes and he catches them with his thumbs leaning down until our foreheads touch.

I didn't even hear him stand up.

We're breathing like we've just run a race. I curl my hands over his wrists and we just stand there, trembling together in the quiet.

It's wrong. I know that. I know this moment is too intimate for anyone who isn't Stefan. But that didn't stop me when he got here and it won't stop me now.

I'm not sure it will ever stop me again.

I open my mouth to say thank you, but then he is gone, leaving me alone with the sound of my heart pounding like a drum behind my ears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Vampire Diaries or anyone involved with it. **

_**A/N: I'm sorry this is so late. Bronchitis sucks. Lots. :-( I also apologize if this chapter is a bit rough – I'm giving it all I've got, but it was a really rough week. I beg you – be gentle. HA!**_

_**Now, for you guys. Your reviews, your comments, the time you've taken…it's gone beyond encouraging at this point. It's something so much bigger to me. I mean it sincerely when I say, that *you* have taken over as the inspiration of this story. You are amazing**_

_**There is so much negativity regarding D/E these days, and of course Season 2 has been pretty brutal. Sometimes it feels like the pairing is doomed to be degraded as predictable, pathetic, and even repugnant. And that *kills* me, because I think there's something so profound between these two characters. Yes, I am that far gone. ;)**_

_**Wow…waxing poetic. Sorry! In short, you guys remind me how great these two are with every single comment. Thank you a thousand times over. Keep them coming and I'll do them every bit of justice I can. **_

I have no idea why I'm doing this. I might just be that sick of this ridiculous curse. Or of not knowing my own past.

Or maybe I'm just trying to avoid the boarding house because I might run into Damon there and that's _not_ happening. It's been five days. Five days, and I can still feel his hands on my face when I close my eyes.

_That_ scares me a hell of a lot more than my vampire doppelganger.

I double check my pack and set my shoulders. I don't have much to offer her this time. Just blood and company. Blood was enough to make her talk before. It'll probably work again.

At least, I hope it works. Katherine's the only one that seems to have any real answers about what I am. And why I exist.

Halfway down the steps to the tomb, I stop, shocked to hear voices. Fear snakes up my spine and I turn, poised to run, my fingers already reaching for my cell phone.

That's when I realize it's not just any voice.

It's Stefan.

"This is your fault. You destroy _everything_ good," he says, and he sounds so torn. Almost bereft.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you, Stefan?" Katherine says, "But me being bad doesn't explain _you_ being here."

For one moment I think he's trapped in there with her again. I'm ready to fly down the stairs and then I remember.

There is no spell.

Stefan told me himself that Elijah's command is the only thing holding Katherine in this tomb. He's here by choice.

I want to be dreaming. I want to wake up, shaking my head and holding my chest, deliriously grateful that it isn't real.

"So, why the mercy mission?" she asks.

"It isn't a mercy mission," Stefan says. "I just can't stand to see anyone suffer. You know that."

She chuckles at that, a wicked parody of my own laughter. "Anyone, Stefan? Or _me_?"

The pieces come together with an almost audible click in my mind. He's _helping_ her.

My brain, my _whole being_ rejects the thought immediately. Stefan wouldn't do this. Not unless there was a totally reasonable explanation behind it.

"Whatever I felt for you was a long time ago, Katherine," he says. "It's not who I am. Not anymore."

I should feel better, but I don't. I can tell by his voice that there's more he's not saying.

"Then why are you here, Stefan? Every day. Same time. You know as well as I do it takes longer than twenty-four hours for starvation to set in."

His sigh takes me out at the knees. It's a brutal confirmation that this is real. This is true. There is no mistake and no un-hearing any of this.

"Just drink the blood so I can go," he says.

My body slips into autopilot. I pad softly up the stairs, retracing my steps back to my car. I don't cry. I don't scream or shake or fight the urge to run back to him, demanding an explanation.

I don't think I want an explanation. Not yet.

I start my car and crank the heat. And then I drive. I take the bridge out of town and head south the highway. Because I don't want to go home. And I don't want to think. I want to go somewhere to forget.

I drive to the next town over, one that's home to a couple of warehouses and a small community college. It's also home to a little bar that Caroline, Bonnie and I discovered.

This place is nothing, a total hole in the wall with maybe six tables and a couple of bartenders. But the bartenders are always college boys, boys willing to overlook ID for a short enough skirt.

I'm wearing pants. But I've got red lipstick in my purse and a tank top under my shirt. Hopefully it will be enough.

"So, how's that little blonde friend of yours?" Randy asks, pouring my third shot.

Wait. Maybe fourth. Fifth? Crap, I have no idea. But I feel _no pain_.

"You mean Caroline?" Off his nod, I continue. "She's good. I guess you could say she's developed a bit of a bite."

"Just a shame you being here all alone," he says, and yeah, maybe he's looking at my boobs, but so what? He's kept his hands behind the bar.

And there's a table of about six women in their mid-thirties behind me, so it's not likely anything's going to happen.

"Hey, I should text her!" I say, punching in a quick message pleading for her company. "How much do I owe you, anyway?"

He just winks at me and makes a little zipping motion with his fingers at his mouth.

He's kind of cute, really. Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, with short brown hair and quarterback arms. I might have dated a guy like this a year ago. A guy with a million dollar smile and no fangs in sight.

I suck down my shot and laugh at every one of his awful jokes. Right now, I don't care if he's flirting. I don't care about anything at all.

I'm dancing by the jukebox when I realize my soccer mom table has vanished. The bar is completely empty. And Randy's not behind the bar anymore.

I feel a stab of fear, but I refuse to give it purchase. Panic gains you nothing. I need to be rational here. He's probably harmless and I've got pepper spray if not.

Of course it's in my purse.

Which is at the bar.

And Randy is walking into my little jukebox alcove, getting way too close for comfort.

"We've got the place to ourselves," he says, trying to pull me in for a spin. "Let me get you another drink."

I dodge smoothly, eyeing my options for escape. They aren't good. "I think I've hit my limit."

Drunk or not, I'm still smart enough to know when someone's getting grabby.

"Hey, where's that old dartboard?" I ask.

I'm not quite scared. Not really. But I wouldn't mind holding something I could stab an eye out with all the same.

"I've got some _games_ in the back you might like."

I feel a sick chill on the back of my neck at the way he says 'games.' When he reaches for me again, I push him back lightly. "Okay, buddy. I'm not that drunk."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm sure," I say, looking him dead in the eye to make sure he knows I mean it.

He tries again, reaching for my shoulder, and I shove him off, harder this time. "I'm serious!"

"Ooh, feisty," he says.

Dread settles in my middle. This can't be happening. I look for the door, but it's out of my line of sight. I'm practically in a cave back here, bathrooms to my right and him blocking my way out.

He shakes his head, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You know what I think?"

Probably.

"Sure don't," I say, because I'm not about to give him bait.

I start skirting around a table, but he's right with me. This is going to get ugly. I can feel it. And he's big enough that I don't like my chances. I fight my swimming head, trying to formulate a plan.

"I think you like me," he says.

"You don't know how wrong you are. I've got a boyfriend," I say, swallowing hard

"I'll bet you do," he says, eyes lingering on the tank top I'm regretting. "You're a hot little thing."

"God, she is, isn't she?" a new voice asks.

My body goes limp with relief before I even lay eyes on him.

Damon.

He's sitting the table behind Randy, a cruel smile curved beneath those beautiful eyes. I feel the adrenaline recede, my ribs going loose enough to allow me a long, deep breath.

"I'm a little busy here, buddy. And we're closed," Randy says, keeping his focus on me.

"Oh, well, don't let me interrupt," Damon says, landing silently on the floor behind him. I can see the veins around his eyes, dark against his pale skin.

Randy turns around, going pale. Damon smiles, flicking his tongue behind his fangs. "Want to make it a threesome? I bet I could rock your world."

Randy is terrified. Shaking. Maybe pissing his pants if I'm smelling things right. He bolts left, but Damon's there before he can move two steps. He's enjoying this way too much.

He snarls a hand around Randy's throat and then there's no fun in it. There's murder in Damon's eyes. "I'm going to feed you your own kidney for touching her, you _worthless_ piece of shit."

"Damon, don't," I say. "Let's just go."

He cocks his head at me, pulling a pouty face with fangs. It's ridiculous.

"You're no fun," he says, tossing Randy over the table like a handbag. The momentum rolls Randy right off of it. He crumples onto the chairs, landing with a grunt.

Damon's next to me then, sliding an arm around my shoulders and handing me my purse. I should probably be put off by his display, but I'm not. I practically melt into his side.

"You know he could still live with one kidney," he reasons.

"Can we go already?"

Outside, I draw in a long, cold breath. My eyes still feel heavy, my limbs too loose, but I am on my own two feet and unbelievably grateful for it.

I lean back against the outside of the building. The sky stretches above us, velvety dark and pricked with stars. Damon, of course, isn't looking at the stars. He's pacing groves into the pavement in front of me.

"Thanks, Damon. I mean it. How did you even know I was here?"

"Caroline had to deal with the dog. She couldn't reach Stefan, so she called me."

"I ask for a friend and she sends in the calvary. Nice."

"Hey, what are friends for, right?" he chimes back, sarcasm dripping from every word. He stops in front of me, flashing me a look of pure rage. "You are really trying to get in touch with your inner stupid, aren't you?"

"Okay, you're mad," I say, too tired to care.

"No, I passed mad twenty minutes ago. I'm in a whole new place now."

"Look, I appreciate you being here, Damon. I do. But I really don't need this. Not now."

He's on me so fast, I imagine briefly what Randy must have felt. But then I don't think about anything at all, because his hands are braced on the wall on either side of me and he is close. Too close.

"So, what inspired this, Elena? A little trouble in paradise? It has been what six, maybe seven days since the last big drama."

His words are like a knife, but I force my face to be like stone. To reflect nothing. "I just needed some space."

"No, you don't. You need a lobotomy. Both of you do."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means it's ridiculous how often you both play this card."

"What card?" I say, and my head is still spinning, but I can't tell if it's the liquor anymore. It could just be him.

Damon tilts his head, batting his lashes and affecting a sugary falsetto that doesn't sound anything like me. "Oh, Stefan, I love you _so_ much! But we have to save the rainbows and the unicorns, so we _can't_ be together. We just can't!"

"You're an asshole. And this is none of your business," I say, pushing under his arm.

He watches me walk towards his car without trying to stop me.

"It's not my business, Elena?" he calls after me. "I walk through fire barefoot to keep your ass alive, catching hell for it half the time—

"You know I appreciate…your help," I argue lamely, trying to wrench the passenger door open.

He darts into my path before I can get in. And if the death-stare he's giving me is any indicator, he's still ten kinds of pissed.

"It's not like I haven't thanked you," I say.

Damon's face twists into a sneer. "Right. My favorite was the one you whispered over my brother's shoulder, _hoping to God_ he couldn't hear you."

"You're delusional." I say, moving again.

He blocks me out of the car for the second time. "Am I, Elena? Am I delusional about what a shit deal this is, me saving you from your endless suicidal glory so that you can rush into my brother's bed for Round Twenty-Nine of the MakeUp Sex World Championship?"

"_That's_ what this is about for you?" I shout, tonight's refreshments liquor still slurring my words. And my judgement. "All you're concerned with is what kind of _payment_ you should get for being my friend?"

His eyes tell me I've got it all wrong, but it's too late for that now. Anger's coursing through me. Anger and other things.

"You want a damn payment, Damon? Will that shut you up?"

I launch myself on him like the crazy person I've become. I've got his collar tangled in my hands and I'm mashing my lips up against his. It's awful.

But it should work. He should bend me back and kiss me until I can't feel or think about _anything_ but him. He should be changing my religion about now, but he's not. He's doing _nothing_. And that's even more insane than me because this is Damon.

_Damon!_

He'd screw a parking meter if it winked at him.

But I know why he doesn't respond. He knows me well enough to know I'd _never_ do this in my right mind.

What he apparently _doesn't_ know is that my mind _isn't_ right anymore.

I pull back, mortified by my actions. God, what's wrong with me. What's _wrong_ with me?

I drop my gaze to my feet. I want to apologize, but tears come instead. Burning with humiliation, I scrub them away with my hands, but he knows. He has to know.

I won't look at him, but I can feel him looking at me. And I can feel that his anger is gone. I don't want to see what's replaced it.

I can handle his pissy theatrics. Anything else and I might never get myself back together.

"What did he do?" Damon asks gently.

I pick at my jeans, wishing I could erase the last minute. Wishing I could disappear altogether.

"Is Stefan in trouble?"

"No. I don't know," I say, looking up with a sniff. "He's feeding Katherine."

Damon closes his eyes, an expression settling over him that I rarely see. I think it's weariness.

"You're sure?" he asks.

"I went to the tomb and overheard them. They…it's been going on awhile. I was upset, so I came here to get away. I didn't want to think about it for awhile, okay? I just wanted to…I don't know, have a little fun and…forget."

He holds up his hands, giving me half a smile. "I get it. Hell, Elena, I wrote the sheet music for this act."

My laughter takes me by surprise.

"I can talk to him," he offers, shrugging.

"No. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

"Feeding Katherine is dangerous. Keeping her strong…" he trails off, shaking his head. "Bad idea doesn't _begin_ to cover it."

"I'll talk to him, get his side of it. He deserves that much."

"I don't care if it was a request from the Pope-I'm not going to like it."

"Me either," I say, rubbing my eyes, where I can feel the beginnings of a headache blooming. "Look, Damon, it's late and I feel like crap. Do you think we can be done with this for now?"

"Not quite."

My stomach just has time to tangle itself in a knot before I feel his hand at the nape of my neck. His chest brushes mine and my body goes into short circuit. Every part of me feels charged. Electric.

I take a breath, but there's nowhere to run. I'm trapped between Damon and the steel of the car. And I am about to come completely unhinged.

"That was your one," he says. "You don't get any more."

I want to ask him what he means, but if I open my mouth right now, God knows what I'll end up doing with it. His finger and his thumb slide down the back of my neck and I have to bite my tongue not to moan, it feels _that _good. His eyes follow my every movement. I know he's listening to every hitch of my breath.

"When you kiss me again," he says softly, "all bets are off."

Damon lets me go without another word. He even helps me into the car with his standard, easy manners. As if nothing happened here at all. As if my legs still work.

I let out a shuddering breath in the cabin while I wait for him to settle behind the wheel.

We're halfway out of town before I have the presence of mind to think about Damon's choice of words, a choice that prickles at the back of my neck like a warning. He glances over at me, calm as you please.

"You want me to swing through a drive-through? You've got to be hungry."

I manage to nod, but I am a thousand miles away. I've still got his words running on endless loop in my mind. _When you kiss me again._

Not 'If.' No, he said '_When_.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Guess what? Chicken butt! Plus, I don't own Vampire Diaries. Darn it all.**

_**A/N: Have I told you that you all blow my mind? That you're awesome? That I don't deserve your kindness? All true. Your reviews are the gas in this engine. I know you're all busy and could be doing a zillion things other than reviewing, so I'm grateful. I'm also better, so thanks for the well wishes!**_

_**Now, for the bad. :-( I delayed posting this, because I hate this chapter. Ok, maybe not hate. But I'm not crazy about it. That said, I also feel like this chapter is absolutely critical if I'm going to keep these characters in…uh, character. **_

_**I think it's tricky to get to D&E without throwing one of the trio (D, E, or S) under the bus. And I don't want to go there. But I still want to stay in character. Which stinks when you have to write a chapter like this where the sexy!snarky!hawt! takes a backseat to reality. (sigh) Plus, it's long. (double sigh)**_

_**Please, please, please review so I don't sit in the corner convinced everyone has abandoned ship. :-P We're SO close, now. Don't give up on me yet!**_

I slide my shoes back on as Damon turns into my neighborhood.

"It's about time," he teases. "My whole car smells like feet."

"My feet don't smell," I say, rolling my eyes.

"I drove the last ten miles with my eyelids curling up on me."

"You can't resist being a pain, can you?"

He turns to arch a brow at me. "This coming from the girl who made me pull off the highway for a can of Red Bull and a package of Ho Ho's?"

"It's a sure-fire hangover cure around here. I can't believe you've never heard of it," I say, then I turn to narrow my eyes at him. "With the way you drink, I'm half-surprised you didn't _invent _it."

"Two points for that one," he says. "But you do realize you're setting me up for about a dozen filthy '_Ho-Ho_ eating' jokes now."

"You're disgusting," I say, but I'm on the edge of a laugh.

I hold it in. Damon doesn't need any more ego than he's already got.

My good humor vanishes when we pull up to my house. There are already two cars in the driveway. Neither belong to the people who live here. And both remind me of what Stefan's doing.

"Well, we've got the Saintmobile," Damon says, nodding at Stefan's car. "Who's the other one?"

I sigh before answering. "Bonnie."

"Well this should be a barrel of laughs," Damon says, turning off the engine and stuffing the keys in his pocket.

I feel my eyes go comic-book wide. "You're not coming in!"

"What, you're going to tell them the tooth fairy dropped you off?"

"Damon, you can't," I say, grabbing his arm as a flush crawls up my neck. I know how I must look, make-up smeared, hair a mess. "This could look…like something it totally wasn't."

"Good point," he says, then beckons me with two fingers. "Give me your underwear. I'll hang them from my belt loop and we can watch that vein in Stefan's forehead go _crazy_."

I smack him until he's out of the car, and smack him once more on the walk up for good measure. At the stairs that lead up the porch, I stop.

Because I am two seconds away from a confrontation that will change my life. And there's nothing funny about it.

"You alright?" Damon asks.

I don't know how he knows to ask, how he knows my mood has just plunged forty degrees. But I'm not surprised anymore. He's like a tuning fork, finding my pitch without even trying.

"Yeah," I say, wishing I believed it.

I climb the steps to my porch like I'm walking to the gallows.

"Any final words?"

"Yes. Don't be an ass."

Damon grins, undeterred. "Can I be a dick?"

The door flies open and Bonnie and Stefan's faces fill the doorway.

They've got 'concerned' eyebrows working overtime tonight. They serve the worry up with a side of trepidation when they see Damon at my side.

Which is why I'm a little surprised when Stefan pulls me into his arms, his chin going to rest on the top of my head.

"Thank God you're alright."

"I'm not alright, Stefan," I say, pushing away from him.

He's not surprised. Obviously. He wouldn't be waiting for me if he didn't know something was up. I've got no idea why Bonnie's here, though, but I'm sure I'll be filled in.

Stefan steps back, gesturing me inside _my own house_. "Please, Elena. I think we should talk."

Damon squeezes past us in the doorway. "I'll make popcorn."

"Does he need to be here?" Bonnie asks.

I don't bother replying to that, but I follow them to the living room, while Damon saunters around the kitchen like he owns it.

We all take our seats, Bonnie and I on opposite ends of the couch. Stefan perched on the coffee table facing us.

I dare a glance into the kitchen where he's got a spoonful of something upside down in his mouth. I watch him pull that spoon out, nice and slow-

"Elena, I know you saw me at the tomb with Katherine today," Stefan says. "I saw you leaving."

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "And what does Bonnie have to do with this?"

"I'll explain everything," Stefan says.

Damon laughs in the kitchen, pointing the spoon at us. "This is the part where he tells you he did it all for you."

I see a muscle jump in Stefan's jaw, but he continues as if Damon didn't say anything. Maybe as if he isn't even here.

"I've been bringing Katherine blood for about a week now. I'm hoping to earn her trust."

Bonnie chimes in then, "We need her to trust him if she's ever going to give us her blood."

Okay, I didn't see that coming. And apparently neither did Damon, because he's abandoned the kitchen and is walking towards us wearing an incredulous expression.

"Excuse me?" I manage.

Stefan gives me a placating look. "I know it sounds crazy, but Bonnie and I have been talking."

"And trading acid hits?" Damon asks.

"We've been discussing Klaus," Bonnie says. "He's no joke, Elena. There's reference to him in one of the books at Luca's place. If he really wants you dead, we are in serious trouble."

"So, what? Katherine juice is his kryptonite?" Damon asks.

"No, but she's a vampire. A strong one," Bonnie says. "We might need her help."

I laugh then. "I am the last person she'll ever help. And she's stuck in the tomb anyway."

Stefan scoots forward, leaning towards me. "You're right on both counts. But if we get her blood—

"Then I can force the issue. I can summon her," Bonnie says. "There's a spell. It's intense, but it will work. Since Katherine is technically dead, I can summon her like a spirit. But I need a part of her body to do it."

Damon leans against the door frame. "Let me get this straight. You're going to trick Katherine into giving up her _blood_, and then you're going to magically enslave her to do your dirty work? Yes, _nothing_ could go wrong here."

"It's dangerous," Stefan says, nodding at his brother. "But you know as well as I do, we can't win. We can't protect her."

Damon's eyes drift to me, of course. Because I am _her_. He won't let his fear show, but I can feel it. Maybe see it in the set of his jaw.

"Katherine is _not_ a solution," Damon says, looking back to Stefan. "The Antichrist, maybe, but not a solution."

"We don't think she's a solution," Stefan says.

"She's a back-up plan," Bonnie says.

I'm beginning to wonder how many times they rehearsed this conversation. Did they use cue cards? I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the questions in.

"She's compelled to stay in that tomb," I say. "If you summoned her out, won't she just run back."

"A summoning spell is complete. It can unleash spirits that have been dormant for centuries. I know I don't have any proof, but Grams told me to trust my own instincts. And my instincts tell me this will work."

"Katherine could be one more layer between you and Klaus, Elena," Stefan says.

"So, she's cannon fodder," I say, feeling anger flare through my middle. "Well, you've got your plan all set. Except that you forgot to tell the rest of us."

"I, for one, am hurt," Damon says, but he must see the looks firing between Stefan and me because he lumbers up from the couch, pulling out his keys.

"Leaving so soon?" Stefan asks, looking livid that he's stayed this long.

"Well, I figured Elena might like a little privacy for those eye-daggers she's sprouting." He strides past Stefan, slapping him on the shoulder. "You kids have fun."

Bonnie follows him out, brushing a hand over my elbow gently as she passes. But I'm too preoccupied to even spare her a glance. I know where things are going tonight.

And all the tender looks in the world aren't going to change it.

Stefan look wary. "I only wanted to protect you, Elena."

"I know that, Stefan. You always want to _protect_ me."

"And don't you want the same thing? To keep the people you love safe?"

"Yes, I do want that. And I know it's easy to blur the line when you love someone. But lately you always seem to think you know what's best for me. The last time I didn't agree with your plan, you ignored me. Now, you're going to hide it from me?"

He looks genuinely confused, shaking his head, reaching for my hand. "It's not like that, Elena. I don't know what Damon told you—

"This isn't about Damon!" I say, pulling away before he can touch me. "And it isn't even about your ridiculous plan, which you _know_ I'd never be okay with. It's about us, Stefan. You and me."

"I love you, Elena. And I know you love me."

"That isn't enough!" I say, with more volume than I'd intended.

There's something final about this that sticks in my middle, pinching the bone between my ribs. This is different than before. Nothing will ever go back from this moment.

"How can you say that?" Stefan asks. "You're the one who said it's you and me forever."

"I did and I meant it. But we've changed. This crazy life we live has changed us, and I think we're both too afraid to be honest about that."

"Then let's change it."

I shake my head, sighing. "We can't undo the things we've done. The secrets we've both kept," I say, feeling guilt press hard on my shoulders. "Can't you feel it? This space between us? It means something, Stefan."

I see it wash over him. The truth. He nods slowly, eyes wet with unshed tears. "I do feel it. And I want to fight it. I don't understand why you don't."

My own tears are welling fast. I swallow them down hard before I speak. "Because I don't know that we're supposed to fight it."

I see my words lance through him. He doesn't breathe for a moment and his eyes are so dark. So full of pain. It's like a knife in my middle.

And I know it's the right thing to do. I wish to God I didn't. I wish that I could take these words back and peel away the anguish on his face.

But I can't. And that's enough to twist that knife in me until it's all I can do to keep breathing.

"I love you," I say. "I'll always love you."

"Don't," he says. "Elena, please don't go."

"I'm still here. This love," I say, gesturing between our chests. "It's real and it's important and nothing changes that."

"What you're saying changes everything. What it means…"

He trails off, clearly too pained to fill in the blanks. What it means is the end of _us_. It is the sharp-edged shift of our reality from one thing to another.

I don't deny it. I let it settle into both of us.

"I thought you were my happily ever after," he says, the ghost of a bitter smile beneath his tears.

My face is wet too. When I lick my lips, I taste salt and heartbreak.

I touch his face. Just once. "I wanted to think that, too."

How the hell is this even going to work?

Break-ups require space. You're supposed to dodge each other at school and make sure you don't end up at the same parties at the same time. You're supposed to be cordial, but distant. You're not supposed to end up at your ex's house _six days_ after the break-up to discuss your imminent probable death.

But then vampires shouldn't exist at all, so when you apply normal logic to my life, things get muddy.

I glance across the table at Caroline, Alaric, Damon, Bonnie, and Stefan. Of course, Stefan. He's gazing at me with all the devotion in his arsenal. It's a look that says he'll wait forever for me.

But I think he expected he wouldn't have to wait so long.

To be honest, I might have suspected that myself.

Alaric stands up first, sliding on his coat. "I'm going to scan vacant properties and hotels in the area. If we're lucky, he'll turn up."

"Tyler and I will check out the woods," Caroline says, standing up as well.

"Do your sniffing during the day," Damon says. "He's bound to have a ring, but his minions won't be so lucky."

"So, we'll meet back in a couple of days?" Bonnie asks.

Stefan nods, still not taking his eyes from me. I turn my attention to my phone, which is ridiculous. Everyone likely to call me is sitting at the table. But it gives me a way to break his stare before standing up. When I do, the rest of them are already filing out. And Damon has completely disappeared.

I gather my purse and my coat to leave. Stefan follows me to the door, his hand softly brushing my shoulder.

I step free of it, but paste on a bright smile. "See you in a couple of days."

"I wish you would reconsider my offer to stay here," he says. "Klaus is close. Maybe here in town. It's not safe."

"Which is why I need to be at home. Jeremy and Jenna shouldn't be alone."

"Elijah swore to keep them safe, and he will. But that's _them_, Elena. Not you."

"Bonnie has wards up. I'll be safe at home," I say. I don't say the other piece of it, though I suspect he knows already.

Damon's been watching my house. He hasn't outright admitted to it, and I haven't outright asked, but I've seen his car parked down the street more than once. And Stefan asked him tonight where he's been wandering off to every night.

The dark look he's wearing now tells me he's figured it out.

I drive home with the radio blaring. It pushes out thoughts of werewolves and curses and vampires named Klaus. Damon's on the roof when I pull into the driveway. I'm not even sure he's trying to hide it at this point.

Inside, I take my time. I chit chat with Jenna about her day, and ruffle Jeremy's hair, before climbing the stairs to my room.

The door closes with a soft snick behind me and I move to my window, sliding it open.

"He knows you're here, you know," I say.

There is a moment of silence, and then he appears on my windowsill. Gray shirt, dark jeans. Eyes that cut me to the quick.

He shrugs as he eases himself into the room. "He knows. You know. But nobody talks about it. It's almost scandalous."

I join him on the window seat, sitting down beside him.

"You faring any better than my brother in this break-up?" he asks.

"Nope. I feel like hell."

"You don't look it," he says, and something akin to alarm must pass over my features.

He laughs at it, and my cheeks go hot.

"Give me some credit, Elena," he says, busting me out. "I have one or two morals left."

"Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"You didn't mean I was trying to get in your pants while you're still crying over my brother? Yes, you did."

I duck my head. It's as close to an admission as I can get. But he takes it.

"You'll be alright," he says, bumping my knee with his. "Both of you will."

Tears spring to my eyes as if he's flipped the on-switch. There's no warning. No preamble. Just sudden, quiet sobs that carry my pain on their shoulders.

He lets me cry. He doesn't pull me close or try to hush me with cooing, or stuff tissues into my hand. He just sits beside me. He's just there.

When it is over I feel purged. Swollen and aching, but clean.

"I knew it was coming. Is that normal? To love someone _that_ much and still feel like there's miles between you?"

Damon laughs. "You're asking me? Have you seen what happens when I fall in love, Elena? Shakespearian tragedies _pale_ in comparison."

Maybe it's the angle or the lighting or maybe I've taken a swan dive off the edge of reality, but his words force me to look at him. And for the first time, I actually _see_ him.

Fierce. Tender. Funny. Loyal to the marrow of his bones.

He will _never_ leave me.

And I don't want him to.

I see his face change, concern shadowing his humor. He lifts my hands and it's only then that I realize I'm shaking. Which makes sense, because I'm terrified of this.

I need him. I'm not even supposed to tolerate him, and I _need_ him.

"You can't go back to the way things were," I say. I have no idea what is pushing these words out of my mouth. My breath is gone. My throat is _so_ tight.

"You're my friend," I say, trying to articulate the mess of feelings squirming around in me. "I can't let myself—I can't—you can't go back to the killing—

"I know, Elena."

I swallow hard, barging ahead. "And I'll never forget what you did to Jeremy."

"Neither will I."

"I'm not sure I can forgive you for that."

"I know that, too," he says. "But I'm not ready to throw in the towel on it."

"Fair enough," I say, and this time I bump his knee with mine.

Maybe some part of me never will forgive him.

But, I think some other part of me just did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries, which means I'll likely NEVER get to see any of this Guess what? Chicken butt! Plus, I don't own Vampire Diaries. Darn it all.**

_**A/N: Well, I wanted to get this out early, because…well, because you guys POURED out your support and goodness and I have been overwhelmed beyond words. I definitely don't deserve you, but I am so grateful! I mean, I wanted to crank it out in two days because I was so blown away and I wanted to do something kind - but...well, I suck.**_

_**Honestly, my plans to be early were defeated by loads and loads of the white fluffy stuff. My snow shovel and I have become good pals. Plus, again, I hemmed and hawwed and even forced my poor husband to read this because I'm getting absolutely paranoid about letting you guys down! See? That's how much your reviews mean to me! :-) **_

_**Anyway, I'm still not totally thrilled with this one, but I'm happy enough and it's been too long! Also, I had to add a SCREEN BREAK because keeps removing mine. Ugh. FYI, I think we're getting close (2 more chapters and possibly another short one or an epilogue) to the end of this beast. I'm going to have it complete before the hiatus is up and the season veers off to make all of this totally impossible. Because now, I'm really wishing I could actually see some of this stuff! HA!**_

_**Enjoy, and as always if you can spare a quick moment, please please review – every update is really thanks to all of you. :-)**_

I wake up afraid.

It doesn't make sense. All is quiet and familiar. My bedroom is cloaked in darkness and the furnace is humming softly. But my arms are covered in goosebumps nonetheless.

Something rattles downstairs. Any other night, such a noise wouldn't even raise my awareness, but tonight is different. Tonight, it scares me to death.

I sit up slowly, and a warm hand covers my mouth. Before I can scream, Damon is speaking low and fast into my ear.

"Vampires downstairs. We need to go. Now."

A dream. It has to be a dream. But it feels real. And this is _my_ life, so I'm not taking any chances.

Damon releases my mouth and I twist to see him.

"Jeremy and Jenna?" I whisper.

"Safe."

I move to stand up, but he shakes his head. "No. They'll hear you."

Then he pulls me into his arms and lifts me off the bed as if I weigh no more than my pillow. I expect him to go for my window, but he moves back through the bathroom and then through Jeremy's bedroom.

His feet make no sound. None at all.

I can see my brother's curtains billowing, his bed slept-in, but empty. I barely have time to process what's happening before Damon's leaping out of the window.

I gasp, my hands clawing into his shoulders. There is a breathless moment of freefall, my stomach tumbling end over end, and then he lands gently in the grass.

He takes off in a sprint that makes my eyes water. Houses and trees blur past. The wind is so cold that it actually hurts, but I don't ask him to stop. I don't dare.

Headlights appear from around the corner and I feel Damon's body relax.

"What's happening?" I ask, my teeth chattering.

Damon doesn't answer, just zips us over to the car. We are inside before I can even look at it. And we are rolling forward before he's pulled the door closed. I struggle on his lap. The ceiling is too low and the dashboard is biting into my side.

"What's going on?" I ask, a little panicked, searching the dark cabin of the car.

"Hi, Elena," Caroline says from behind the wheel. She guns the engine harder and I lurch back against Damon, righting myself with shaking hands.

"Are you alright?" Jeremy asks, his voice coming from the backseat.

I try to nod, but I'm still completely off balance.

"Take a left there. Don't make it obvious," Damon says.

I force my muddied mind to process my surroundings. This is Damon's car. I don't know why Caroline is driving it, but I imagine it's because he was busy rescuing me. I turn around, spotting Bonnie on one side of my brother and Tyler on the other. Everyone looks awful. Exhausted.

"I'm okay, Jer," I say, spotting the worry in his eyes. "You guys?"

"I'd like to know what the hell's going on," Tyler says. Bonnie's tight expression tells me this isn't the first time he's asked.

Damon ignores him and fusses with the heater. Likely because I'm shivering to the point of convulsions on top of him.

"Where's Jenna?" I ask, trying not to think about how short my shorts are or how cold I am. Or how hard Damon's legs feel beneath me.

Caroline takes another corner, and points to Damon's phone on the dashboard. "Mr. Saltzman texted you. He's, uh, keeping her occupied at his place. Which is just…ew."

Damon shoots her a look that would probably kill a lesser girl at ten paces.

Caroline rolls her eyes. "What? It's weird, okay? I mean, he gave me a pop quiz yesterday, and now I have mental images of him _occupying _Elena's aunt? Ick!"

"How has someone not killed you at this point?" Damon asks her.

"Hey, dickhead!" Tyler shouts. "Lay off her and tell me what the hell is going on."

"One more word and I will _neuter_ you," Damon says without looking.

Jeremy and Bonnie hold Tyler back from trying to vault over the backseat.

Caroline hits a bump and I bounce on Damon's thighs. I need to get off of him. Now is not soon enough. I search for options, and come up completely empty unless I want to hurtle myself into the already packed backseat with Caroline doing eighty miles an hour. I don't see that working out well.

But sitting on Damon's lap wearing _pajamas _isn't working either.

We're _insanely_ close. I can see him, smell him, feel him _everywhere. _I carefully try to situate myself to avoid rubbing up against...God, this is horrible. Or maybe the very opposite of horrible. That line's getting really blurry for me.

"Tell me what's going on," I say, hoping the unease in my voice will be attributed to the danger. "Where's Stefan?"

"He's fine, but his phone's not working," Caroline says, but she pulls up the statement at the end, like she's asking a question.

"He's feeding Katherine," Bonnie supplies woodenly.

This fact should do something to me. Hit a nerve. But I'm just too cold and too freaked out about being curled up like a kitty cat on Damon's lap to give a crap who Stefan's feeding. As long as he's still alive and _not _in this car, I'm good.

"There's no reception down there," Caroline says, probably because she thinks my silence means I'm upset. "But, no evil vampires either. I mean, except for Katherine but she's locked up. Wait, she is still locked up, isn't she, Bonnie?"

"Caroline!" I say, holding up a hand. "Real information? Please."

Damon gives me an appraising look and takes his jacket off, tugging it around me and turning the heater up even further.

"Klaus decided to play the surprise card," he says, jerking his head towards Bonnie in the backseat. "You want to tell her?"

Bonnie looks at me and I get it now. She's not spaced out. She's just scared. "I felt the wards on your house flicker about an hour ago. I woke up because I felt something. Or someone. Someone messing with my spells, and a few of their own."

"What kinds of spells?" I ask and Bonnie's lips thin into a frown.

"Ones that override vampire invitations," Jeremy says, putting the pieces together faster than me. He turns to Bonnie. "Is it possible?"

Her eyes flick to Damon before returning to me. "There are certain safe passage spells that might work. I just can't imagine a witch that would do it."

"Unless of course the witch is Klaus's bitch," Caroline says, and Tyler smirks.

"Okay, so now we know how the vampires got in. What's the rest of it?" I ask.

Damon rubs my arms through the jacket with brisk, determined strokes. "Long story short, Judgy called me. I called Blondie. Blondie brought her mutt, and we converged on your house for the rescue. Very A-Team, don't you think?"

He is way too close to be smirking at me right now. I want to move away, but there's nowhere to go. And squirming seems like a _very_ bad idea.

"How did you get out?" I ask Jeremy.

"I took him," Caroline says. "The whole super speed thing comes in handy."

"It comes in handier when you don't wear a charm bracelet that jangles with every step," Damon says, glaring at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Riight. I'm sure that's the reason you just _had_ to get Elena yourself."

"So are we sure it's Klaus?" I ask quickly, before that line of conversation can go anywhere.

Damon arches a brow. "Can you think of another vampire that has five henchmen and a witch on retainer?"

It's a pretty convincing argument.

"So, it's Klaus," I sigh. "Now what?"

"Elena, I tried to get the wards back up, but…" Bonnie shakes her head, tears welling. I think I've got something figured out for the boarding house, but it's only for tonight…"

She trails off, and Jeremy's arm goes around her shoulders. He catches my eye and nods. "She's saying we can't go home."

"And she's right," Damon says.

It doesn't really surprise me. Some part of me knew that the moment we jumped out of Jeremy's window.

"It's okay," I say, with as much bravado as I can muster. I lock eyes with Jeremy. "We're okay."

"Maybe for now," Jeremy says, and I feel Damon's arm go tight around my waist.

I pretend not to notice. Because I don't really want him to move.

/SCENE BREAK/

Neither a sandwich nor a shower has shaken this exhaustion from me. I'm beyond tired and I look every inch of it. I stare at my reflection: damp hair, Caroline's sweatpants, sad eyes.

Stefan will be home soon. I got through on his cell phone just before I stepped in the shower. I almost wish I hadn't. Because that means he'd been with her two hours. And it also means I didn't even care enough to ask him why.

A soft knock comes at the door, and I know it's him. He probably raced the entire way, punching his steering wheel and feeling responsible for every bad thing that's happened in the western hemisphere since he turned.

"Yes?" I ask.

"It's me," Stefan says, and I pull the door open.

He rushes in, hands cradling my face. "Elena, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, easing away from him. "Really. Not a scratch."

He shakes his head, looking as shamed as if he sent the vamps to my house himself. "I am so sorry, Elena. For not being there. For not…"

I rub my temples, trying to push back the edge of irritation that's slipping into my sleep-deprived mind.  
"This isn't your fault. And I'm really okay."

"I should have been there," he says. "You needed me tonight and I was—

"I'm not your responsibility, Stefan," I say, as gently as I can. I don't tell him that I never was. But I think it.

He nods but still looks hurt as he takes a step back.

"I'm sorry," I say, stepping in to give him a brief, chaste hug. "I know you were worried. But you can't blame yourself for every bad thing that happens to me."

The crease between his brows looks less pronounced, but he doesn't respond. The silence stretches into awkwardness.

"Is everyone still downstairs?" I finally ask.

"Yeah. Resting," he says. "Bonnie got her spell up and crashed right away. Everybody else was headed in that direction."

"And Jenna?"

"Alaric took her to a local Bed & Breakfast. It should be safe for a day or two."

"A day or two?" I ask, plowing my hand through my hair. "We can't live the rest of our lives by a day or two, Stefan."

"We won't," he says. "We'll figure this out once we've had some rest."

"And how do we know Klaus won't come tonight?"

"Bonnie cast some sort of firewall to protect the house. If anyone touches the exterior, they'll burst into flames."

"So, no ordering pizza tonight," I say.

We smile together, but there is a sadness in his eyes. One I know will probably never disappear. I have taken something from him. Something I don't think I can return.

"You should get some rest. You can take my room," he says. "I'll find one of the empty ones."

"No, I'm not tired," I lie. "But you look whipped. Maybe you should turn in."

"I'll be fine," he says. "I'd rather know you're resting well."

"Maybe we can switch?" I ask, not really wanting to argue this back and forth. "I want to check on Bonnie and Caroline and maybe get something to eat."

He nods, but there's suspicion in his eyes. And with good reason. We both know Bonnie and Caroline aren't the only people I'm planning to check on.

I descend the stairs slowly, hearing the crackle of the fire before I see it. It's the only light left in the main living room.

I circle until I see Bonnie and Caroline on opposite couches. Tyler and Jeremy are on the floor between them. My heart twists when I see the way my brother's body is turned towards Bonnie. And the way her arm is dangled down, like they just might have been holding hands.

When did that happen? And how did I not notice?

I slip into the kitchen, but I don't know who I'm doing it for. I'm not hungry. And I don't want to watch my friends and my brother sleep. No matter how long I stall in this kitchen, it's not going to change why I'm down here.

I find Damon in the smaller study. He's standing by the mantle, glass in hand, the fire lending beauty his face doesn't need.

The last time I walked into this room, I broke up with Stefan. It didn't stick, of course. Back then, nothing seemed to stick. Now, everything does.

Damon doesn't look up to greet me, but he knows I'm there. He's probably known since I started down the stairs. I stand by the couch, rubbing my arms and watching the fire.

"Do you think Bonnie's spell will work?" I ask.

"I never trust magic," he shrugs, not shifting his gaze an inch. "But it's all we've got."

"So, what happens tomorrow?" I ask.

Damon turns his glass in his hand without taking a drink. "We find Klaus. Then we kill him."

"You make it sound easy."

"It won't be."

No jokes tonight, then.

"Where's Dudley Doright?" he asks, proving me wrong.

"Sleeping."

He puts his drink down and leans against a bookcase, wearing that indifferent expression that's more transparent to me by the hour. "Or daydreaming about the ways _he_ would have saved you. You know since he missed tonight's heroics, he's going to throw himself in front of any bullet he can—

"Damon, don't," I say quietly.

He gives me a look that sends a chill up my spine.

"Don't _what_?" he asks. His tone is colder than ice. Sharper than a blade.

"You know what," I say. "Don't act like none of this bothers you at all."

He shrugs. "We can't all hide under our beds crying about the things that go bump in the night, Elena."

"Why not?" I ask, stepping towards him. He's dodging my eyes, but I keep going. "Why shouldn't we be scared? We don't know if we can kill Klaus, do we? We don't have a plan, or even a hope, really. And this doesn't scare you? Because it scares the hell out of me!"

He doesn't answer, so I step even closer. "Answer me, Damon. Aren't you afraid?"

He still says nothing, so I reach for his arm and oh, oh, that was _not_ a good idea. He spins me around so that my back is to the bookcase and he is looming over me. He looks feral. Dangerous.

"No, I'm not afraid," he says. "I'm fucking petrified. The thought of losing you...of you dying...if I go there for even one second, Elena, it _paralayzes_ me."

I open my mouth, but there are no words. None that do a damn bit of justice to the way he's looking at me right now.

"I can't be paralyzed," he says quietly, tilting his head and sliding his palm down the length of my neck. My whole body wants to curl towards his touch. My legs are shaking and weak, my hands itching to reach for him.

Damon closes his eyes and I know he's feeling my pulse, recording my scent. He's holding onto me with everything he has.

And maybe I want to hold on, too.

I'm done pretending that this thing, this _behemoth_ between this is nothing. Because it's not nothing. It's never been nothing.

I stretch up on my toes and press my lips to the underside of his jaw. He takes a sharp breath and I feel his hands tense on my neck as mine curl against his sides. Every part of me aches, from the roots of my hair down to the soles of my feet.

The edge of whatever we're standing on is beginning to crumble. He meets my eyes and I feel it, the ground giving way, the abyss of the unknown yawning beneath us.

I expected flashing lights. Gongs clanging out my certain doom. Instead, there is nothing but his face. Just his soft lips and impossibly pale eyes.

He leans in and I don't move away. It hurts to even _think_ of moving away. I just want to be closer. I _need_ to be closer. Just for a minute.

A blood-curdling scream sends us lurching apart. Damon slides automatically in front of me as we search for the source of the noise. It's still going on, a thread of wailing that needles through my ears.

"Outside," I say, still breathless when I see the window.

As if he didn't know. As if he can't see the orange-yellow glow outside the window. The body engulfed in flames.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries, which means I'll likely NEVER get to see any of this stuff happen. Boo hiss!**

_**A/N: I'm really sorry about the delay. Another snowstorm. REALLY WITH THIS? Ugh. But, we're almost to the new TVD! YAY! And also, WAH! Because that means we'll be reminded that the possibility of Damon and Elena is still probably a long ways away. *sigh***_

_**As for the world inside this fic…well, I think there will be a quicker payoff. ;-)**_

_**Enjoy, and if you can review, please do. There is actually an epilogue I'm considering posting with the final chapter (or within a day of it) but I'm looking for a TVD-verse location for the setting. I know what will happen, but not where. So, inspire me with someplace cool if you've got ideas. :-)**_

_**And even if you don't have an idea, review if you can. I love them like Woah! As embarrassing as it is, I *just* figured out how to reply to reviews (yes, I'm that much of a loser that it took me this long), so I'm going to see if I can do that on this next chapter. You all are just fantastic and I'm really looking forward to thanking you personally. This fic would have gone by the wayside long ago if it weren't for all of you. The whole thing is really because of your kindness, so… *HUGS* Yeah, you all rock so hard.**_

_**This chapter is busy. Not my fave, but if I fiddle any more you all are going to think I've abandoned it. **_

The screaming has stopped, but I like the silence even less. Now I can only hear the ripping hiss of the flames, and that's worse.

Much worse.

I am still tucked behind Damon when Stefan bursts in. His eyes dart once to us, a split second of _awareness_ before he's rushing to the window. The blazing figure outside is stumbling to his knees.

It's like watching a nightmare.

Then the room explodes with activity. Everyone parades in. They're all talking at once, in shrill frightened voices. I can't hear what they're saying. I can't even look at them.

My eyes are riveted to the intruder. The one who's now rolling in the grass, curling in on himself.

I think of the way it feels when I bump my neck with a curling iron. Just one little touch and it hurts for _days_. I watch him burn and think of that pain. It's enough to twist my insides into ugly knots.

Watching someone die is one thing. Watching someone burn? No. No, I can't do this. I can't do this knowing I'm the reason he's burning.

"Put him out," I say softly.

No one hears me. Everyone is rushing, arguing. Everyone is waiting on the vampire outside to die.

"Put him out!" I say.

And then the fire is gone, leaving its victim face-down in the grass.

He's dead. He has to be dead. No one could live through that.

Stefan turns to Bonnie, his face pinched. "Did you do that?"

She throws up her hands, shaking her head. "No. I didn't do a thing."

Outside, the body sits up. There's something familiar about the motion, or maybe about the silhouette of his hair and the shape of his face.

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Tell me that's not Elijah," Stefan says, phrasing my thoughts more coherently.

"That's Elijah?" Caroline says, moving towards the window for a better view. "We flambéd _Elijah_?"

"Well, we tried," Damon says, turning to Bonnie. "Got any more rabbits in your hat, Bullwinkle?"

Elijah stumbles to his feet. He's totally untouched. Not a hair out of place. It's like the fire didn't even graze him.

"Why isn't he burned?" Jeremy asks.

"Why isn't he _dead_?" Tyler asks.

Bonnie's trying something, but it's not working. She drops her hands, panting, sagging into my brother for support. "I can't do anything. I think someone's out there. Blocking me."

"Well, don't give me all the good news at once," Damon says, sounding almost bored. The way he keeps himself between me and that window tells me he's anything but.

"Staking him won't work," Stefan says, moving shoulder to shoulder with Damon. "Fire either."

"I don't like our odds," Damon says, then he looks over his shoulder at Caroline. "Get your dog out of here. Now."

"You want me to run?" Tyler asks, looking snarly. "Like hell!"

Stefan turns to him, "They need a werewolf, a doppelganger, and a vampire to break the curse. We have all three in this room. It's not safe."

"Then send Elena," he says, pointing at me. "I can fight."

"I'm not going anywhere," I say, crossing my arms.

Damon flashes a menacing grin at Tyler. "And I won't rip her throat out for being stubborn. But what do you think your chances are, Poky Puppy?"

Tyler lunges for Damon, but Caroline grabs his arm. "No, he's right. We need to go."

They are just out of the room when Elijah arrives at the window. It slides open, though I'm sure he didn't touch it. I don't like this. I don't like any of this.

"Don't look at him. He can compel vampires," I remind them.

"You're a bright girl," Elijah says, "but if I'd meant to compel them I could have done that ages ago."

"What do you want?" Stefan asks.

"Civility to start," he says, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket sleeve. He doesn't move to come inside. "I told Elena I would keep you all safe and you know very well I'm a man of my word."

"You're an insurance salesman," Damon scoffs, affecting a smooth drawl that's not a bad impersonation. "Sign here, Miss Elena. Never you mind that fine print about selling your soul."

Elijah smirks at that. "You are every bit as reckless as advertised, aren't you?"

"How did that fire not hurt you?" Stefan asks.

"I have special friends, too," Elijah says, tipping his head to Bonnie. "We have all sorts of special tricks."

"As fascinating as it is to watch you pet your own ego, we've got things to do. Vampires to kill," Damon says, as if he's going to turn and walk away.

Elijah laughs. It's a chilling sound. "Ignorant little boy. You can't kill Klaus. You can't even kill me."

"We have a plan," Stefan says, wearing his best I-mean-business face.

"Your little arrangement with Katherine?" Elijah asks and my blood runs cold. "Tell me, did you really think she was stupid enough to give you her blood?"

Stefan lifts his chin, to his credit, looking unfazed. "To get out of that tomb, I think Katherine would do anything."

Elijah smirks and then she's there, dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt. She looks like me. Even more so than usual. And she's got something with her. Two somethings.

Alaric and Jenna.

"Jenna!" Jeremy shouts, and it takes Bonnie and I both to pull him back from the window.

"Let her go!" I shout over his shoulder. Damon pushes his way in front of our group, but I squirm out, lunging for the window. Stefan hauls me back, but I scream at Elijah anyway. "You swore you'd protect them!"

"And I've kept my word," Elijah says. "It's time for you to keep yours."

I struggle until Stefan leans close, speaking softly. "Stop before he hurts them."

He's right and for once, I listen.

Alaric and Jenna are bound and gagged, but otherwise unharmed. Jenna looks more placid than I'd figure, so I'm guessing she's been compelled. It makes me hurt inside to think of her like that again, mind blank and pulled like a puppet.

"You want to take me to Klaus," I guess and Elijah tilts his head, but says nothing.

"No one's taking anyone anywhere," Stefan says, and then his eyes fall on Katherine. I see his expression change, his eyes flashing. "_You_. I should've known not to trust you."

"It isn't my fault," Katherine says, and I can feel the air go thick and tight between them. "I _couldn't_ tell you I was working with him."

"No, you could have. You didn't want to, because that wouldn't serve your purpose," he says, and there's more than anger in his tone. There's hurt. Betrayal, maybe.

"Be quiet, Katherine," Elijah says.

Stefan looks tense. Conflicted. His eyes are still on her. "You lied to me. That's all you are is lies."

Her tongue is held by Elijah's command, but her face is soft. For the first time, I see one of my own expressions cross her face. Regret.

She stayed in that tomb for Stefan. To see him. I can see it now, a tangled ugly knot of emotion that she probably doesn't have a damned idea what to do with. I don't know if Stefan sees it, but he sees something.

He turns away, plowing his hands through his hair. Probably because he's too ashamed to face it.

And I get that way too well. Cheeks burning, my eyes drift to Damon, who's focused completely on Elijah.

"Tell me she'll live," Damon says, and I know who he's talking about. _Everyone_ knows who he's talking about.

"You're welcome to come along to see," he says. "Take the night to think it over. Come morning, I'll be paying my old friend a visit. And Elena will accompany me."

"And if she doesn't come?" Stefan asks, having regained his composure.

"Then I'll kill these two and have my witch tear your house apart until I change her mind."

He walks away, taking Jenna and Alaric with a muttered command. Katherine lingers behind him, her eyes wide and fearful. She bites her lip and throws something before dashing after him. We tumble like dominoes towards the floor, but this isn't a weapon.

It's a message.

Stefan's uncurls the paper from the rock, scanning it once before handing it to me.

"What does it say?" Jeremy asks, Bonnie leaning over his shoulder.

I see the words, but can't make my mouth work. Damon reads it for me.

"_He's watching the house. He'll kill you if you run_," he reads, then crumples the note and adds, "Love, your BFF forever, Katherine."

"What are we going to do?" Bonnie says.

"About this?" Damon says, flinging the note to the ground. "Nothing. Katherine is a manipulative, scheming bitch. You can't play her games without becoming a pawn."

"She's probably telling the truth," Stefan says, his face like stone. "He wouldn't let us leave. It wouldn't make sense."

"So we're trapped here," Jeremy says.

"Probably not all of us," Damon says, and he's right. Elijah won't care if the rest of them leave. Just me.

"What are we going to do?" Bonnie asks.

"I don't know. We have a few hours, so that's something," Stefan says.

Damon scoffs. "Three hours to come up with a plan for us to escape Elijah, rescue Alaric and Jenna, and kill the most powerful vampire alive. Yeah Should leave me enough time to knit a scarf before we get started."

"Is everything a joke to you?" Stefan asks.

And then they're all talking again. Their voices are blurring and my throat is closing up and this is all because of me. Because of my blood.

I can't do this. I can't take it. The panic is climbing up my throat, pushing through my limbs. I feel like I'm going to explode, like all of these terrible feelings are going to rip me into millions of pieces.

"Elena?" Jeremy asks.

I turn to him, knowing my expression must be wild. I shake my head. "I need a minute."

Stefan touches my arm, "Elena, wait."

"I said I need a minute!"

And then I run like hell.

(BREAK)

Damon finds me in Rose's bathroom. I have no idea why I'm here. It's white and plain and it's the farthest room from the stairs. I feel safe here, with the dripping water and the claw-foot tub. It's not an interesting room, or large one, but it is quiet.

I want the quiet.

"Please go," I say, leaning back against the sink.

He comes in close, flipping a switch until an exhaust fan whirs to life. I open my mouth to protest, but then I get it.

He doesn't want us to be heard.

Something about this terrifies me and thrills me at once. He shuts the door and closes in on me and my pulse goes into overdrive. It echoes in my ears, a heavy drum drowning out the reality of what is waiting for me downstairs.

His hands settle on my face, his eyes searching.

"Tell me what you want to do," he says.

I could sooner recite the Gettysburg Address. In Latin. I feel too close to tears to talk, but I can see he's not going anywhere. And he's wearing a face that I'm not capable of arguing with.

I take a breath. "Elijah said—

"I don't give a damn what Elijah said. This is _your_ life. You wanted to choose, didn't you? So, choose. Do you want to run? I can have you and Jeremy in another state in two hours."

The idea glistens in my mind, the possibility. I imagine the sun through the windshield, and the world sliding past my window while Jeremy fights with Damon over radio stations. The idea of it is bliss.

But reality snaps its teeth at the mirage. We have school. We have lives and friends and Jenna.

Oh God, Jenna.

I shake my head, swallowing hard.

"Do you want me to kill him? The first time didn't stick, but next time I'll just take off body parts until something works," he says, like this is so easy. Like we're discussing taking care of a mouse in the kitchen.

His thumbs glide along my cheekbones and I shudder under his touch. "Just tell me what you need and I will find a way."

He means it. I know Damon's dirty secret now, the thing he hides behind the sharp teeth and sharper words.

Devotion.

"Elena, tell me," he says, and God help me, I can't lie to him.

I want to. I want to pull up my socks and lift my chin and be the perfect, brave girl everybody thinks I am. I'm great at being that girl.

Unless I'm with him.

"I don't want to die," I admit, the words spilling out of me faster than I can hold them in. "I hate this. I hate all of it. I don't want to be special. I don't want to make choices or sacrifices. I don't want any of this!"

The confessions tumble from my lips, selfish and awful. And true.

And he takes it in like the hero he swears he can't be. He is looking into the darkest truths I have. And it doesn't change a thing.

"I don't want this," I say again.

"I know," he says, so soft. So damn soft that it breaks my heart.

"Please go," I say, my voice cracking. "Run. You could save yourself."

He gives me a sad smile stroking those talented fingers over my cheeks. "It's too late for that."

The weight of his words push against me like the tide, swelling constantly closer.

I am losing this fight. Inch by inch. Second by second. He is breaking me down, sliding beneath my radar with every touch and every look.

He's going to kiss me. I can read it in his eyes as if he'd painted the words in the sky. It's inevitable. I know that. But still, I shake my head. Pretend there's some way to stop it.

"Damon, we can't do this. This can't happen. Not ever."

He gives me a fierce look, one that begs to differ. "This is already happening, Elena."

He reaches past me, throwing the faucets on full blast. Water hisses into the sink and he picks me up, setting me on the edge of the counter.

The side of me that doesn't understand words like '_wrong' _or '_brother' _is intensely aware of my knees on either side of him. And there is no extra _anything_ on Damon's waist. He is like skin-encased steel.

Now all those alarms I'd been waiting for start blaring. I am at the top of the rollercoaster and the track is dropping out from beneath me, my stomach flying high.

"Wait," I say. It's not much, but it's all I have left.

"I've waited long enough," Damon says, and then he leans in so close that I can feel his next words on my lips. "Have you?"

Time freezes into a crystalline moment of clarity. I could pull away right now. I could push him back and flip my hair and walk out of this bathroom the same sweet, compliant girl that walked in.

Or I could kiss Damon.

Hell, like it's even a matter of choice anymore.

I don't even know who moves. I know that his lips are against mine and that I am plunging down the hill and straight into that inevitable tide. It sucks me in and pulls me under. I don't even fight it. I just part my lips so I can taste him.

It should not feel so right. His lips should not fit so perfectly against mine. His fingers should not find that tender curve of my hips so easily. None of this should be so natural. So good.

He's making these soft, delicious sounds into my mouth, his tongue working wicked magic on me. I feel his fingers on my spine and my body shaking _everywhere_. I pull away for a gulp of air, but I'm not ready to end this. I'm a million miles from ready, so I palm his face and he whispers my name. And then we're kissing again.

His hand finds a sliver of skin beneath my shirt and we both hiss at the contact. Our kiss goes deeper. Greedier. My legs hook around his waist and he lets out a groan that I feel in every x-rated place I have. He moves from my lips to kiss the hollow of my throat, and I whimper, tilting my head back to give him access. I don't want him to stop. I don't ever want him to stop.

Oh, God.

I'm not going to stop him. I'm going to let him take me right here with the sink threatening to overflow down the back of my pants and the whole world waiting one floor beneath us.

"Hold on," I say, panting.

"To anything you want," he replies, and I feel his smile against my throat. It's all I can do to keep myself from giving in.

But I can't give in. I can't! God, what is wrong with me? People are hurt—maybe _dying_-and I'm up here getting hot and bothered?

"Damon, stop," I say, still breathless. "Elijah—

"Isn't my type," he says, tongue flicking my pulse.

I push him away, though my body is still throbbing. "I'm serious, Damon."

"So am I," he says, but his smirk is propped on an expression I've never seen him wear. He looks unbelievably young. And human.

I untangle my legs and finger comb my hair, but he stops me from scooting too far by grabbing my hand.

"Don't do it," he warns me.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't act like this was a mistake."

"What, you think this was a great way to pass the time?" I cry. "Jenna and Alaric are out there with _Elijah_ and I'm up here making out with my ex-boyfriend's brother!" I say. "What kind of twisted person does that?"

"This one," he snaps, gesturing at himself. "But that goes without saying because I'm the psychotic vampire, right?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I say, and I didn't. I don't know what I'm saying. My head is still reeling. My body still wants to climb him like a tree. It's all a damn mess.

"Mean it however you want, Elena, but don't you dare sit here with me and pretend this was some momentary lapse of sanity for either one of us. Like I was your sick side-trip down Bad Girl Boulevard!"

He's the one who's shaking now. Pacing back and forth in this narrow little room. I slide onto my feet and try to steer clear. It's like square dancing with a lit stick of dynamite. One I desperately want to touch.

I reach for his arm and he goes still at once. The monster tames beneath my fingers, his shoulder relaxing under my hand.

"I don't know what this was," I say. "But I can't think about it right now. I can't think about anything but what I'm going to do when the sun comes up, okay?"

"And going down there will help you think?" he asks, looking incredulous.

"Well, I can't think about anything but kissing you up here!"

His anger melts into a smug smile. I want to smack it off his face. Or maybe something else. This is a disaster.

"Can you stop?" I sigh. "You look like the cat who got the canary."

"Tweet," he says, with a smirk that should be illegal in the States.

"Yeah, you're a real riot. Did you miss the whole life or death stakes we've got going on?"

"You're not going to die, Elena," he says, any trace of amusement gone. "That's _not_ an option."

"Then help me figure this out," I say. "You've gotten out of worse, right?"

"Hell no," he scoffs, slouching against the wall. "But since I'm a regular white hat these days..."

We exchange half a smile, and I turn off the water. I don't bother checking my reflection. I can't worry about how well kissed I look right now. I just need to get down there and face the dawn. Literally.

Damon blocks me at the door, his arms crossed. "You realize that I will tie you to the hood of my car if it means saving your life?"

"You realize I will stake you in your sleep if you do anything to save me that will endanger the people I love?"

He grins at this, glancing skyward. "We are a match made in heaven, aren't we?"

We shouldn't be a match at all. But I don't say that, because I'm not sure the _shouldn't's_ matter anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries, which means I'll likely NEVER get to see any of this stuff happen. Boo hiss!**

_**A/N: I can't believe we're here. The final chapter. And holy, holy crap it is LONG. I'm sorry, guys. It probably should have been two, but I promised one last chapter. So here you have it, beast that it is. Several warnings.**_

_**1. I went in a very DIFFERENT direction with Klaus. Be warned. Be open minded. Pretty please.**_

_**2. There's a death. It's pretty significant. Not D or E.**_

_**3. It's probably more than a little rough editing wise (I have sick kids and I was up til 3am. I'd really prefer to polish this for another day or two, and it could use it - but I'm pretty determined to get it up before the ep tonight changes everything)**_

_**This has been an amazing ride and I have been spoiled rotten by your kind reviews and pretty terrified that I will let you down. WAH! **_

_**THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE! Much fluffier future-set scene. Probably up Friday or Saturday. I am pooped and I have ignored EVERYTHING today to get this beast of a chapter posted.**_

_**I reeeeealllly hope you don't hate it. ::worries:: Please review. You've got a very nail-bitey author on your hands tonight. **_

I know what death row inmates must feel like walking to the execution room. Every single step I take feels heavy. The air feels thick and hot, when in reality it's freezing out here.

We never did come up with a plan. In the end, it all comes down to killing Klaus. And since we don't know how to do that, we have to wing it. I'm not a fan. But I'm not a fan of people I love dying either.

Bonnie's still suffering under some sort of magic block, no doubt courtesy of Elijah's special friend. And Damon has thrown three or four full-scale hissy fits about me not letting him kill Elijah on site. The truth is, I think we might need Elijah. God knows we can't trust him, but I can't imagine finding Klaus, let alone destroying him, on our own.

So, here we are.

Stefan in on my right. The _right_ choice. The one I was _right_ to be with.

Damon is on my left. Which doesn't seem significant until I realize the left side is where your heart is.

I'm not sure what to think of that, so I don't. I snip it out like it's made of paper, and keep my eyes on Elijah, who's waiting at the end of the driveway, a long, sleek car on the road behind him.

Katherine is beside him, sunglasses on though the sky's just barely pink with the promise of dawn. She's watching Stefan, though. I'm sure of that.

"Good morning," Elijah says, smiling as if we're all headed out to brunch. The car door opens and a dazed but unbound Jenna and Alaric emerge.

"Stefan's keys are in his car," Elijah says to them. "You'll take his car home, where you'll spend the day resting. There isn't anything happening you're concerned with. Do you understand?"

"Of course," Jenna says.

"Thank you," Alaric says, shaking Elijah's hand.

My arms go up in gooseflesh. It is the creepiest thing I've ever seen. And considering the last several months of my life, that's saying something.

I turn to watch them walk to the driveway.

"Katherine," Elijah says, waving at the boarding house. "Put the witch and the boy somewhere secure."

"No!" I cry.

"Would you rather she kill them?" he asks, and I zip it then, watching her run to the house.

"Gee, I can't wait to find out what kind of prize _we_ get," Damon says.

"Actually, you're the ones with the prize," Elijah says. And then he has me away from them before _anyone_ sees anything. Including the vampires on either side of me.

I see the shock and horror dawn on Damon and Stefan's faces as my back slams into Elijah's front. His fingers spread into a star in the pliable flesh beneath the juncture of my ribs.

He's going to kill me. Just that quick.

I don't dare move. I just stand there and stare at Damon and Stefan, knowing they may be the last thing I ever see. Stefan looks anguished. And Damon…well, Damon doesn't like he's about to split into three or four different personalities. I doubt any of them will be pleasant.

Then I feel Elijah's lips near my ear. Damon's eyes go dark, his fangs descending. I don't even think he notices it's happening.

"Do you think I have their attention now?" he asks me.

"We're listening," Stefan says.

Elijah releases me, but keeps me at his side. "I'll require your assistance with killing Klaus."

Stefan frowns. "Are you sure he can be killed?"

"The Original vampires don't share your rather delicate nature," Elijah says. "But there are certain…weaknesses"

He doesn't look inclined to tell us more, but Katherine smirks behind her glasses. "It's feeding."

Elijah doesn't look surprised, but he doesn't look overly pleased either. It's as close to a confession as we're likely to get.

"You're guessing," Damon says and she shrugs.

"Think about it. How often do you see them eat? Ninety percent of the time, you never see it. There's probably a reason," she says, a smirk curling the side of her lips.

Elijah relents with a shrug. "It allows a brief window of heightened vulnerability. We will use that window to destroy him."

"If that's true, he'll never agree to feed," Stefan reasons. "Not in front of us."

"Klaus trusts me implicitly," Elijah says, eyes sliding to rest on me. "And he's been craving this particular treat for centuries."

"He can stick his fangs in my ass if he wants a bite of Elena," Damon says and Stefan's expression goes steely, too.

Elijah is too fast to track. By the time my eyes catch up with him, Damon and Stefan are both being held a foot off the ground. By their throats.

"Stop!" I cry, but Katherine snags my arm, hauling me away before I can interfere.

"You will not stop this," he says, looking back and forth between the brothers. Their pupils go wide and dark, but otherwise they hang limp from his fingers. "You will follow me to Klaus. You will stand aside while I deliver Elena. You will not move until Klaus feeds. When he begins to drink, you will help me kill him. Do you understand?"

"Yes," they say, voices as flat and hollow as their eyes.

I shudder involuntarily under Katherine's grip. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. This is wrong. Beyond wrong.

"I should clean her up," Katherine says. "She reeks of Damon. Klaus won't like that."

I don't look at Stefan. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at Stefan again, but I feel his eyes on me. And I feel my cheeks flaming.

Elijah sighs. "Meet us in the car. Be quick about it."

My feet practically drag beneath me as she moves.

"What did you do with my brother?"

Katherine says nothing, pulling open the front door and tugging me towards the fireplace. Away from the windows. I don't hear anything in here.

I take a breath. "If you hurt Jeremy—

"Oh, stop with the dramatics. They're in the dungeon."

She pulls a blue shirt from her bag. _My_ blue shirt. I wore it last week, which means she's been in my house. Again.

When she pulls off her own shirt, I feel my eyes go wide.

"What are you doing?"

She turns to me , pulling her glasses off. Then I'm really freaking out. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, dark bruises marring the flesh beneath. And her skin is beyond pale. It's sheet-white. She looks more like a corpse than any vampire I've ever seen.

It's like seeing myself dead. Dead and half naked.

"What…what happened to you?"

"Vervain," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's the new Red Bull."

"Why would you…wait. If you're drinking vervain, Elijah can't compel you."

"Give the girl a cookie! Here," she says, tossing me her shirt and pulling my blue one over her head.

"Wait. What the hell are you planning here?"

"Something I'm going to regret for the rest of my life," she says, handing me a hair tie.

I realize now her hair was pulled back. Now that she's shaking it around her shoulders, parting it just so, I can see she's straightened every inch of it. She planned this. Down to the last bit.

"It won't work," I say. "No one will ever believe you're me."

"It's harder to tell than you'd think," she says, pulling lipgloss out of her pocket and then swiping some of the makeup off of her eyelids.

I try to bolt, but she yanks me back, barely pausing in her work.

"I'll scream," I warn her.

"Then I'll eat your little brother for breakfast."

Satisfied with her own look, she turns to me, pulling my shirt off and replacing it with hers. I feel like a child. Especially when she gives me a spritz of my own perfume and starts applying makeup to my eyes.

"You might fool Elijah, but you won't fool Stefan and Damon," I say.

She ignores me, tilting her head. "You really do smell like Damon. Changing teams?"

I don't answer, and she works on my lips next, slicking on something a few shades darker than I'd ever wear.

"Too moody for me," Katherine says dismissively, "but he is a _maniac_ between the sheets."

"I wouldn't know."

Though I would have guessed it. And okay, maybe fantasized about once or twice.

Katherine suddenly pushes my sleeve all the way up my arm, revealing the thin flesh on the underside of my elbow.

And then she bites me.

It's hard and fast and so unexpected that I don't even think to scream. I try to move, but she's impossibly strong, like an iron clamp around me. This is nothing like the slick pull of Damon's tongue, or even Stefan's frenzied swallows. This is a strong, efficient vacuum, evidence of just how capable she is as a predator.

She swallows hard, five, maybe six times and even that makes me feel pale and weak-kneed. Live I've given blood. Then she pulls away and slides a bandage over my arm, handing me a vial of something thick and red. My stomach turns over.

"Drink up," she says, and when I recoil, she grabs my face in one hand. "With your blood in my system and mine in yours, it will be damn near impossible to tell us apart. Now be a big girl and drink or I'll pour it down your throat"

"Why would you want to do this?"

She flinches at this, but doesn't look away. "Because I don't think Stefan will live if he has to watch you die."

The room is spinning and my world is ripping apart at the seams. I hold the vial in my hand and watch Katherine lick my blood from her lips.

"What about Damon?" I ask.

"Stefan won't survive without him either," she sighs. "Why do you think I turned Damon to begin with?"

I feel a flash of something white-hot go through me. I think it's hate. I bury it down, because it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but saving them.

So I drink.

((SCENE BREAK))

We ride in total silence, Katherine's glasses covering half of my face. I'm holding onto her arm trying not to cry at the way Stefan and Damon stare blankly ahead.

It leaves me no time to worry about Klaus until the car stops and we stumble out in front of a small house. This is nothing like what I expected. I'd assumed we'd arrive at a mansion. Maybe a high tech lab. This is nothing like that. This is a small cape cod with white rockers on the front porch and a cheery brass knocker in the center of the blue door.

We are greeted by….a human. A woman in her early forties with round, pink cheeks and an apron around her neck. I swear to God, she looks like she should be president of the PTO.

"Elijah," she says, reaching forward to embrace him. "He'll be so pleased at your visit. Would you like a cookie? I've got fresh oatmeal."

"Thank you, no. And how are his studies?"

"Oh, you know our boy," she says, her hands coming together as she beams. "He is exceptional."

"He certainly is."

"Well, don't just stand there, come on in," she says.

We file inside and she returns to the kitchen. The idyllic greeting is shattered by the row of vampires inside. Six in the living room. Two on the front stairs. All dressed in plain suits and paying careful attention to the two identical girls strolling through the living room. They say nothing, but I feel their eyes following us, the slightest approving smiles being offered to Elijah as he leads us through.

They have absolutely no interest in the soccer mom in the kitchen, who from the look of things has been baking those oatmeal cookies for the last several years.

Every inch of counter is cluttered with trays heaped to overflowing with cookies. There are six or seven trays that have yet to be unloaded, but she's still humming softly as she scoops out perfect little balls of dough onto a fresh tray.

I'm absolutely certain I will never be able to bake an oatmeal cookie again.

As if I'm going to live long enough to bake cookies.

Two vampries at the back of the kitchen move aside, allowing us up the narrow flight of stairs half hidden behind the fridge. There is a door at the top of the stairs. Elijah opens it and lets us ahead of him. I see him slide his hand down the seam of the door, something black streaking across the wood as his fingers pass.

Weird.

But what isn't weird in this house.

We are in a large, open room. I see a few bookshelves, a long aquarium filled with colorful fish, and a massive desk in the middle of the room.

Otherwise it's completely empty.

Except for the child behind the desk.

I look around, wondering when he's going to show up, and then I see Elijah drop in a slight bow.

The child stands up and every hair on the back of my neck stands up with him.

This is Klaus?

This wide-eyed child with his narrow shoulders and curling dark hair, is the most powerful vampire in the world? It's not possible. This kid couldn't be older than ten. He looks small and frail and _innocent_. He could double as a cherub, his face is _that_ sweet. I could not dream of this boy killing anyone.

Until I meet his eyes.

His eyes are like death itself, cold and dark and endless. Even with my sunglasses on, I feel naked. Terrified. His eyes bring to mind the most horrible things I can imagine. Serial killers. Satanic rituals. The Holocaust. I feel like something good inside me has been lost. Tainted.

"My brother," he says to Elijah, in a voice every bit as warm and angelic as his face. "You've brought me gifts."

"Gifts I'd hoped to deliver so very long ago," he says.

"What is time to us?" Klaus says, his pink little mouth pulled up in a smile.

"Inconsequential," Elijah smiles. The affection between them is obvious. And obviously a big fat lie since I know why Elijah's really here.

"Is this who I think it is?" Klaus asks and Elijah's smile widens.

Katherine waits until she is pushed forward. She's beyond convincing. She cries out, stumbling towards the desk. It's too real. I want to look away. Or maybe go blind.

My heart should speed up, but it slows down. I see him reach for her hand. And she plays my fear like she's going for the Oscar. She's trembling and gasping, her eyes darting around the room for escape.

Maybe she really is that scared.

Katherine knows what he's capable of. And I have a feeling I'll never want to know that. Not ever.

"So you're the one who took her," he says, pulling Katherine closer.

"There is more," Elijah says, holding out the moonstone with a smirk.

Klaus laughs and anything childlike about him vanishes. His mouth opens, fangs descending as he draws Katherine closer.

"You are lovely," he says and I still can't get over this, this little boy being the devil incarnate.

He licks his fangs and leans in and my whole body coils like a spring.

No. Not yet. There are supposed to be speeches and pauses and long, scary silences where you know that the unthinkable is coming. But it's not coming. It's already here. And there's no more time left to buy.

Klaus rears back and then his fangs are in her neck. I see her arm jab, something plunging towards his middle. Elijah starts, his brow furrowing in confusion as Klaus pulls free, fangs dripping with Katherine's blood, his face twisting in surprise as much as pain.

He pulls the stake out of his chest and twists his fingers into her hair, staring her down. "Katerina. You'll beg for death when I'm finished."

I can't see for sure, but I know his eyes are shifting, his pupils dilating as he speaks something softly to her in her native tongue. She cries and moans, trying to fight him off, words I don't understand slipping from her tongue.

Elijah is edging slowly closer, his face set with intent.

Stefan and Damon shake their heads, looking foggy from the compulsion. Then they fly towards Klaus, and I think for one second, it's going to work. They will save the day.

This is what they do.

Then Klaus sweeps his hand through the air in their direction. Like he's brushing a cobweb out of his path. Damon and Stefan fly across the room, spines snapping as they hit the wall.

I force myself to be silent. I bite back the scream rising in my throat until I taste blood. Screaming won't help them. I need to think. I need to get them out of here.

I edge my way across the dark room as Klaus continues chanting those strange words. Katherine is writhing now, pleading half in English and half in Bulgarian. Her words devolve into moans, guttural and weak. And I know he's destroying her. He's doing something to rip her mind to bits.

I see Elijah appear behind Klaus, his hands reaching for his head. I think of Trevor's head ripping free, his body slumping lifelessly to the ground. Yes. Sick and dirty and wrong as it may be, I want that now. I want Klaus dead.

But as Elijah leans in, Klaus reaches behind him, thrusting his hand into his brother's chest. He stops in his chanting long enough to look over his shoulder.

"You, brother?" Then he shakes his head. "You are less than nothing."

Then his hand begins to twist and Elijah opens his mouth for a scream. But Damon is back, thundering clumsily into Klaus and Katherine. They topple sideways and Elijah squirms free.

Stefan drags Katherine away, holding her face, calling her name. She's tearing at her own hair, sobbing and growling in starts. Her fangs are extended, her face feral and blank.

Klaus is finished with her. There is nothing left but instinct. Violence. She struggles wild against Stefan, trying to get free. Trying to attack him. Trying to attack everything.

Klaus is tossing Elijah again and then he's moving for Damon. He's going to kill him.

I'm going to lose Damon.

It squeezes me by the throat, a truth I can't ever accept.

"I'm the one you want!" I scream and Damon groans, shaking his head as crawls towards me. I see the gaping hole in his middle. Klaus already had a run at him. I cringe at how close that hole came to stealing him from me.

My chest aches as Klaus looks at me, a smile lighting his pretty face. "I do love surprises."

He's coming for me, and then he's not. I don't know how it all happens. I am the only slow thing in the room. It's all blurs of flesh and blood to me. I hear growls and screams and grunts and then I'm thrown to the floor, a small body astride me.

I feel long hair stroking my face and then clawed hands pinning me to the ground. I don't understand, because Klaus's hair is short. But it doesn't matter, because the bite comes swift and hard.

This will be my death.

I know that.

Everything is suspended, frozen in mid-flight. Maybe it happens that way because death really is the end. Maybe you _don't_ go on, so you have you get your thinking done now.

I'm thinking of Jeremy. Wishing I could watch him graduate. Get married. Have kids. I'm thinking of my mom and dad and wondering if they thought of me when they were going.

I'm thinking of Stefan and wishing that I could tell him I loved him one last time. That I could tell him that no matter what this thing is with Damon and me, that my love for him is still real. That nothing will ever change that. Not even this.

And Damon. I want to think of Damon, but I can't. If I think of Damon, I won't be able to let go. Thinking of him makes me want to live, no matter how certain it is that I'm going to die.

There is a gurgled gasp near my ear and then the slight weight is shoved to the side. Cool air rushes over my face.

I am free. Alive.

I open my eyes to blue. Impossible, beautiful blue.

"Damon," I say.

He says nothing. He just touches my face, as if I'm a treasure to precious for words. His hands are shaking and tears are streaming down his face unchecked.

I reach for him gently. Carefully. I've never once been careful with Damon, but I am afraid. It is like he has turned to glass. Fragile and thin.

Past Damon's shoulder, I see the desk. Klaus's body is near it. His head is not.

Elijah is slumped nearby, panting softly, but alive. I hear furious thundering at the door, knocks and kicks and full body slams. But no one bursts in. I remember the black on Elijah's hand.

He sealed them out.

His plan worked.

And we're…my thoughts are cut short by a quiet succession of sobs. Each one a little softer than the last. But they are familiar. I know this voice. Stefan.

I twist in Damon's arms and see him hunched near us, shaking. And then I see it all.

The body Stefan is hunched over. The blood on Damon's hands. The dark, wet lump of something on the floor beside us. And the gaping hole in the center of my shirt.

My blue shirt that Katherine stole.

Oh, God.

She was the one who bit me. Katherine attacked me.

And Damon ripped her heart out to save me.

"Damon," I say, my voice breaking in half, but he's not crying for Katherine. Or even for me. His eyes are on his brother, his pain as raw as I've ever seen.

"Help him," Damon says. "Please."

I want to ask who'll be helping him, but there's something so desperate in his voice, something so broken. I touch my forehead to his, breathe him in for one blistering moment, and then I scoot over Katherine's body, easing myself towards Stefan.

I lift his face and he shakes his head, shamed by his tears. His hands go to either side of my face, his face crumpled in misery.

"You're alive," he says, releasing a shuddering sigh. "You're alive, Elena, and that's all that matters."

"I'm alive," I say, stroking his cheek and shaking my head. "But that's not all that matters."

He strokes my cheeks and then pulls me in for a tight embrace. He clings to me like a buoy in a storm. And I let him.

((SCENE BREAK))

I'm safe.

I've been testing those words in my mind since Elijah escorted us out of Klaus's cape cod.

I'd expected the bodyguards to attack once the door was open, but they deferred immediately to the new leader, shaking Elijah's hand and bowing neatly out of his path. As if this was a political campaign instead of a bloodbath. As if they hadn't been on the other side of that door, beating their fists bloody not a half an hour earlier.

And that was that.

Elijah is leaving. Apparently, he had no interest in Mystic Falls, and less than that in breaking that old Aztec spell. He was here for Klaus. For power.

So for now, it is over.

I've kept Stefan in my bedroom all day. We've called everyone in the world, finding them alive and safe. Just as Elijah promised. We talked about how much everything has changed. How much we've _all _changed.

We haven't talked about Katherine. And we haven't talked about Damon either.

Stefan stirs on my pillow and I realize he's awake. Watching me. And since I've been staring into my hairbrush for the better part of the last hour, it's clear I have things on my mind.

"You're in love with him," he says.

Just like that, throwing it out there. But I am Teflon girl. The words slide right off, landing at my feet. I shake my head firmly, but he tilts his head, challenging me with a look.

"I can handle it, Elena."

"That's not it," I say. "I'm not trying to make you feel better. There is something between us. Between me and Damon. I know that now. But I don't think it's love. It can't be."

"Why don't you think it's love?"

My voice is small and tremulous when I answer him. "Because it hurts too much."

"Isn't that because it matters so much?"

Stefan scoots down to the foot of my bed. He is steady and quiet, gathering his thoughts in that way he does. He's so unlike his brother.

I think of Rose's words.

_It's okay to love them both…_

But it's not. Only a crazy person cold love two people so different. So, it can't be true. It just can't.

"I hate it," Stefan says, looking up at me with a self-depreciating smirk. "I do. I want to be the solid guy right now, the good friend. But I hate seeing you with him. The way you hold your breath. The way the air changes between the two of you. It hurts like hell."

Yes. It hurts so bad right now I feel sick. Because I know it will never be anything more than a possibility. A "what if" reserved for rainy days.

I lean forward and touch Stefan's shoulder. "I love you, Stefan. Always have, always will. I would never do anything to cause you pain. And this…there's no way it wouldn't hurt."

"It would," he agrees, "But as much as I hate it, you can make this choice for me."

I feel my face go slack with shock. Stefan continues without mentioning it. "Katherine loved me. I know that now. And I forced myself to feel nothing for her. For years, I swore that it was all a lie." He takes a breath before finishing. "It was more than that. Now it's too late to find out how much more. I don't want that for you. Not for you or for Damon."

"She did it for you," I say quietly, touching his hand. "She said she knew you wouldn't live if you lost me."

"She was right," he says, nodding. "I lost faith in her. I thought she didn't care and that she didn't know me. I was wrong on both counts."

I nod, tears blurring my vision.

"Choose the truth, Elena," he says. "Don't choose what's right or what you think you should choose. I did that. And I'm beginning to believe the truth is always a better choice. No matter how hard it is to swallow."

I stay in my room for a long while after Stefan is gone. I stay until the shadows stretch long across my floor, until darkness slides in through my window.

And then he is there, standing just inside my curtains, his face too beautiful to be real. His eyes swimming with things that words aren't big enough for.

And I don't need words. I don't need anything, because he's here.

The gratitude flooding me is threatening to spill out in a mess of silly, sentimental chatter. I literally feel like I will burst with relief.

"Stefan's packing," he says without preamble.

It feels like punch to the gut. I sit down on my bed, nodding woodenly.

"It's because of me," Damon says, brow furrowing. "Because of us."

Then he's right in front of me, kneeling down. He's touching my face and he's so beautiful and so crazy and scary and this will ruin everything, but I don't care.

I want him. Need him, maybe.

"I can't let that happen," he says and everything screeches to a halt in my mind. "He belongs here. He's the nice guy. White horse, furrowed brow, the whole nine yards."

Wait.

Wait a minute.

"Why did you come here tonight?" I ask.

"You mean, other to see you in those threadbare pj's?" he asks, but I'm not playing.

And with the way his smirk vanishes, I know he's not either. Not really. "I came to say goodbye."

He says other things. I see his mouth moving and I hear a strange, tinny murmur that must be his voice. There are things about Stefan and things about him being better for knowing me. I think I'm even nodding along, but I'm not hearing this. Not really.

I haven't heard a damn word since _goodbye_.

I blink and realize he's back at my window, one foot slipping over the pane. My tongue must weigh a thousand pounds. My feet feel mired in glue.

I swear, I cannot remember how to lift my hands, how to open my mouth and force words out of it. I only know this fear. This blind, gripping panic.

He's gone at least a minute when I find my voice.

"Damon?"

And then I'm crying, shaking with quiet little sobs. I curl in on myself, dropping to my knees. I know this is for the best. This will keep Stefan here and Stefan deserves to be here. It is the right thing. The thing everyone will approve of.

But the ugly truth is, it's not the thing I want.

I want Damon.

I cry and cry until I don't think there could possibly be anything left. But these tears never end. It's like a bottomless river in my chest.

There is a whoosh of air and I look up with a gasp. He's back in my room, face twisted with conflict and eyes red and brimming.

"I thought you were gone," I say, my tears still dripping off my chin.

"That was the plan," he says, shaking his head and breath ragged. "I suck at impulse control."

"I've noticed," I say, and then we're not saying anything, because he's across the floor and he's lifting me up and we're kissing. Something small and frail unfurls its wings in me. I think it feels like hope.

I stroke the lines of his jaw while we kiss and he shivers under my touch. It's a powerful feeling. Almost intoxicating. This isn't some guy, or even some vampire. This is _Damon_. A dizzying, unpredictable force of nature. And it's _my_ touch that makes him weak.

I feel powerful. Hungry. For tonight, _I_ am the predator. I walk him backwards towards my bed, urging him to sit down. He's all too happy to comply, peeling off his jacket and flinging it to the floor by my dresser. And then I'm on his lap and he's kissing me fiercely, and it's too much, too good, too _everything_. And somehow still not enough.

We are rough and desperate, almost pushy with our mouths and hands. I feel frantic to keep going, a gnawing need in my middle that reminds me we can be closer. That we _need_ to be closer.

This will be no jazz-music, candlelit affair. There will be groans and ripped sheets. Broken furniture, maybe. Because Damon doesn't do anything halfway, and I won't either. Not tonight.

I pull away, just a few inches, my hair a dark curtain around us.

"You're not leaving," I say, because I have to be sure. I need to know that I am not falling alone.

"Can't leave," he pants, running his hands over my thighs. "Trapped under a hellcat."

His smirk is brief. It slides into something softer at once. Something that slows the fire between my legs and spreads it to my heart.

He touches my face, and then my hair with trembling fingers. "I should leave. I should and I tried. But I can't."

I feel his words like they are imprinting themselve on my bones. As if it is my mind, and not just my body, that is hearing this. Feeling this.

"I'm crazy about you," he says. "Out of my head, whipped like a dog, over the moon…hell, pick any phrase you want. I'm guilty as charged. And I'm not going anywhere. But Stefan-"

"Will be okay," I say, and I'm not sure if I believe that, but I'm sure this isn't about Stefan. I don't want him between us tonight.

I touch his kiss swollen lips and then his crazy hair and breathe him in, because he is mine. He belongs with me.

"I'm ready to make that choice," I say.

"What choice?" he asks.

I answer him with a kiss. And since he rolls me over and squeezes me so hard it makes my ribs hurt, I'm pretty sure he figured it out.

-END-


End file.
